Thee Antony my care, if I loose not
What yet remain’d? thy loue alas! thy loue,
More deare then Scepter, children, freedome, light.
So ready I to row in Charons barge,
Shall leese the ioy of dying in thy loue:
So the sole comfort of my miserie
To haue one tombe with thee is me bereft.
So I in shady plaines shall plaine alone,
Not (as I hop’d) companion of thy mone,
O height of griefe! Eras why with continuall cries