She’s gone, I know not whither.
But did I know, I do protest
(I speak it not to flatter)
Of all the women in the world,
I swear I’d ne’er come at her.
Her body is bestowed well,
This handsome grave doth hide her;
And sure her soul is not in hell,
The devil could ne’er abide her.
But I suppose she’d soar’d aloft,