IDENTLINE$$ F150C08|BoulRec|Leconfield|ff. 43-4v|Original EWS 6-17-85 150.C08.0HE Elegie on M%5rs%6: Boulstred. 150.C08.001 Death, I recant, and saie, vnsaid by mee [f. 43] 150.C08.002 What ere hath slipt, that might deminish thee, 150.C08.003 Spirituall treason, Atheisme, tis to say, 150.C08.004 That anie can thy summons disobaye. 150.C08.005 Th'earths face, is butt thy table; There are sett 150.C08.006 Plants, Cattell, men, Dishes for death to eate. 150.C08.007 In a rude hunger, now he millions drawes, 150.C08.008 Into his bloodie, or plaguie, or streru'd Iawes. 150.C08.009 Now he will seeme to spare, and dooth more waste 150.C08.010 Eating the best first, well preseru'd to last. [cw:Now] 150.C08.011 Now wantonlie he spoiles and eats vs not, [f. 43v] 150.C08.012 Butt breakes of frends, and letts vs peecemeale rott. 150.C08.013 Nor will this earth, serue him: He sincks the deepe 150.C08.014 Where harmles fish, Monastique silence keepe. 150.C08.015 Whoe, (were death dead) by roes of liuing sand, 150.C08.016 Might spunge that Element and make itt land. 150.C08.017 He rounds the ayre, and breakes the himnique notes 150.C08.018 In birds, heauens, Cloisters, Organique throats, 150.C08.019 Which (if they did not dye) might seeme to bee 150.C08.020 A tenth ranck in the heauenlie Heirarchye. 150.C08.021 O%C strong, and long liu'd death, how camst thou in? 150.C08.022 And how without creation didst begin? 150.C08.023 Thou hast and shalt see de[ad, before thou Dyest,] 150.C08.024 All the fowre Monarchies and Antechrist. 150.C08.025 How could I thinck thee nothing, that see now 150.C08.026 In all this all, nothing else is butt thou. 150.C08.027 Our births and life, virtues and vices bee 150.C08.028 Wastfull consumptions and degrees of thee. 150.C08.029 For wee to liue, our bellowes weare, and breath, 150.C08.030 Nor are wee mortall%Y,%Z dying, dead, butt death. 150.C08.031 And though thou beest, O mightie bird of praie 150.C08.032 So much reclaim'd by God, that thou must laye. [cw:Att] 150.C08.033 All that thou killst at his feete, yett doth hee [f. 44] 150.C08.034 Reserue butt fewe, and leaues the most to thee. 150.C08.035 And of those few; nowe thou hast ouer throwne 150.C08.036 One, whome thy blowe, makes not ours, nor thine owne. 150.C08.037 Shee was more stories high. Hopeles to come 150.C08.038 To her soule, Thou hast offered att her lower roome. 150.C08.039 Hir soule and bodie, was a King and Court. 150.C08.040 Butt thou hast both of Captaine mist and ffort. 150.C08.041 As houses fall not, though the King remooue, 150.C08.042 Bodies of Saincts, rest for theire soules aboue. 150.C08.043 Death getts, twixt soules and bodies such a place, 150.C08.044 As sinn insinuates, twixt iust men and Grace. 150.C08.045 Both makes a separation, No diuorce. 150.C08.046 Her soule is gone, to vsher vp her Corse, 150.C08.047 Which shalbee almost, an other soule, for theire 150.C08.048 Bodies are purer, then best soules are heere. 150.C08.049 Because, in her, her vertues did out goe 150.C08.050 Her yeeres, wouldst thou, O Emulous death, doe so? 150.C08.051 And kill her young to thy losse? Must the Cost 150.C08.052 Of bewtie and witt, apt to doe harme, bee lost? 150.C08.053 What though thou foundst her proofe gainst sins of youth 150.C08.054 Oh euerie age, a diuers sin pursueth? [cw:Thou] 150.C08.055 Thou shooldst haue stayd, and taken better holde, [f. 44v] 150.C08.056 Shortlie ambitious, couetous when olde. 150.C08.057 Shee might haue prooude: And such deuotion 150.C08.058 Might once haue straide to superstition. 150.C08.059 If all her virtues must haue growen, yett might, 150.C08.060 Abundant virtue haue bredd a proud delight. 150.C08.061 Had shee perseuer'd iust, There woulde haue bein 150.C08.062 Some that woulde sin, misthincking shee did sinn. 150.C08.063 Such as woulde call her frendship loue and fayne 150.C08.064 To sociablenes a name prophane. 150.C08.065 Or sin by tempting, or not daring that 150.C08.066 By wishing, though they neuer tolde her what. 150.C08.067 Thus mightest thou haue slaine more soules, hads thou not crost 150.C08.068 Thy self, and to Tryumph, thine armie lost; 150.C08.069 Yett though these wayes be lost, Thou hast left one 150.C08.070 Which is, immoderate greife, that shee is gone, 150.C08.071 Butt wee maie scape that sin, yett weepe as much, 150.C08.072 Our teares are due, because wee are not such. 150.C08.073 Some teares, that knott of frends, her death must cost 150.C08.074 Because the chaine is broke, butt no linck lost. 150.C08.0SS 150.C08.$$ Even lines indented 4 spaces. Spelling for this poem seems more archaic than for others in this ms.