25I feele not that; Yet as the Rack the Gout
Cures, so hath this worse griefe that quite put out:
My first disease nought but that worse cureth,
Which (which I dare foresee) nought cures but death.
Tell her all this before I am forgot,
30That not too late shee grieve shee lov'd me not.
Burden'd with this, I was to depart lesse
Willing, then those which die, and not confesse.
Footnote: To Sir Tho. Rowe, 1603. 1635-69, O'F: An Elegie. To Sr Tho. Roe. B (subscribed J. R.), L74: An Elegie, complayning a want of complement in his mistrisse, at his leave-taking. A10: Elegia Vicesima Septima. To Sr Thomas Roe. 1603. S
Thom: B, L74, O'F,S: Tom: 1635-69