I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of death.
Long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads up to light.
Reason also is choice.
Accuse not nature: she hath done her part; Do thou but thine.
Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill'd.
Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.