It is my deed of gift of mee to thee,
It is my Will, my selfe the Legacie.
So thy retyrings I love, yea envie,
10Bred in thee by a wise melancholy,
That I rejoyce, that unto where thou art,
Though I stay here, I can thus send my heart,
As kindly'as any enamored Patient
His Picture to his absent Love hath sent.
15All newes I thinke sooner reach thee then mee;