Yet, rather, let herself apply
The sovereign med'cine to her eye:
There lurks the weapon wounds me deep,
There, that which stabs me in my sleep;
For still I feel, within, a mortall smart,
The salve that heal'd my hand can't cure my heart.
October 19, 1661.
On Mistress S. W.] The above was printed in Notes and Queries for September 25, 1869; it was contributed by Mr. F. W. Cosens from a manuscript in his possession, Miscellanies by Tho. Flatman, ex Interiori Templo, Londini, Nov. 9, 1661. These poems are autograph. This poem is in the Firth MS., which clearly is a transcript of the preceding. See [p. 278].