Leaue prolonging thy distresse :
All delayes afflict the dying.
Many lost sighes long I spent, to her for mercy crying ;
    But now, vaine mourning, cease :
    Ile dye, and mine owne griefes release.

Thus departing from this light
To those shades that end all sorrow,
Yet a small time of complaint, a little breat Ile borrow,
    To tell my once delight
    I dye alone through her despight.