Philoparthen. "Then, must I live, and languish still in pain?"
Death. "Yea, till thy Love restore thy heart again!"
X.
Were Love a Fire, my tears might quench it lightly;
Or were it Water, my hot heart might dry it.
If Air, then might it pass away more slightly;
Or were it Earth, the world might soon descry it.
If Fire nor Water, Air nor Earth it be;
What then is it, that thus tormenteth me?
XI.