Forsake me not so soone. Castara stay,
And as I breake the prison of my clay,
Ile fill the Canvas with m'expiring breath,
And with thee saile o're the vast maine of death.
Some Cherubin thus as we passe shall play.
Goe happy twins of love; The courteous Sea
Shall smooth her wrinkled brow: the winds shal sleep,
Or onely whisper musicke to the deepe.
Every ungentle rocke shall melt away,
The Syrens sing to please, not to betray.