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For had his jealous courage bin so wise,
As to beleeve it selfe, not others Eyes;
Had he not thought his little patience tame
In suff'ring quiet Men, t'enjoy a Fame;
He might have liv'd to so great use, that I
Had writ his Acts, and not his Elegie.
Goe, gentlest of your Sex! should I relate
With bolder truth, th'unkindnesse of his Fate,
(Too strict, to flesh and blood) I might infuse
A Schisme in your Religion, and my Muse:
Yet this would be excus'd, since all wee gaine
By griefe, is but the licence to complaine.
As to beleeve it selfe, not others Eyes;
Had he not thought his little patience tame
In suff'ring quiet Men, t'enjoy a Fame;
He might have liv'd to so great use, that I
Had writ his Acts, and not his Elegie.
Goe, gentlest of your Sex! should I relate
With bolder truth, th'unkindnesse of his Fate,
(Too strict, to flesh and blood) I might infuse
A Schisme in your Religion, and my Muse:
Yet this would be excus'd, since all wee gaine
By griefe, is but the licence to complaine.
TO
