On Altars or on Martyrs shrines
How doth she burne away?
How violent are her throwes till she
From envious earth delivered be,
Which doth her flight restraine?
How doth she doate on whips and rackes,
On fires and the so dreaded Axe,
And every murd'ring paine?
How soone she leaves the pride of wealth,
The flatteries of youth and health