She is dead; And all which die
To their first Elements resolve;
And we were mutual Elements to us,
And made of one another.
My body doth hers involve,
And those things whereof I consist, hereby
In me abundant grow, and burdenous,
And nourish not, but smother.
My fire of Passion, sighs of air,
Waters of tears, and earthly sad despair,
Which my materials be,
But ne'er worn out by love's security,
She, to my loss, doth by her death repair,
And I might live long wretched so
But that my fire doth with my fuel grow.
Now as those Active Kings
Whose foreign conquest treasure brings,
Receive more, and spend more, and soonest break:
This (which I am amaz'd that I can speak)
This death, hath with my store
My use increas'd.
And so my soul more earnestly re'leased,
Will outstrip hers; As bullets before
A latter bullet may o'ertake, the powder being more.
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