Page:Madagascar, with other poems - Davenant (1638).djvu/133

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To Endimion Porter.

Would thou wert dead! so strictly dead to me,That nor my sight, nor my vex'd memorieCould reach thee more: so dead, that but to nameThou wert, might give the sawcie lie to Fame;That the bold Sonnes of Honour, and the mildeRace of Lovers (both thy disciples stil'd)Might aske; who could the first example beeTo all their good? yet none should mention thee,Knocking at my Brest, when this hou'r is come;I hope, I once shall finde my heart at home.Say, thou art dead; yet whisper't but to me;For should thy so well-spent mortalitie,End to the world, and that sad end be knowne;I might (perhaps) still live, but live alone:The better world would follow thee, and allThat I should gaine, by that large Funerall,Would be, the wanton vanitie to boast,What they enjoy, was from my plenty lost.

To

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