Strike againe; ô no, no more
I implore,
Such another touch would be
My destiny.
What bewitching soundes are these
Which so please;
As that we beginne to feare
What we heare:
Sound yet lowder, raise a Tone
Which to owne,
The cælestiall Quire would be
Suitors t'yee,
Sound yet lowder, that if Fate
Make this date
To my yeares, I yet may dye
Speedily,
And that this Ditty sweetly strong
May be my Death and Fun'rall song.