Page:The Maid's Tragedy Altered - Waller (1690).djvu/37

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The Maids Tragedy Alter'd.
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Yet twisted with my Life; and IThat cannot faultless live, will dye.Oh! that some hungry Beast would come,And make himself Aspasia's Tomb.If none accept me for a Prey,Death must be found some other way.In colder Regions Men composePoyson with Art; but here it grows.Not long since; walking in the Field,My Nurse and I, we there beheldA goodly fruit; which tempting me,I would have pluck'd; but trembling she,Whoever eat those Berries, cry'd,In less than half an hour dy'd.Some God direct me to that Bough,On which those useful Berries grow!Exit.
Enter Amintor alone.

Am.

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