A Man to his Mistress

O do not grieve, dear heart, nor shed a tear,
Since in your eyes my life doth still keep there,1
And in your countenance my death I find;
I’m2 buried in your melancholy mind.
But in your smiles I’m glorified to rise,                        5
And your pure love doth3 me eternalize;
Thus by your favor you a god me make,4
And5 by your hate a devil’s shape I take.6

  1. keep there,] appear; 1664; appear: 1668
  2. I’m] And 1653
  3. your pure love doth] in your love you 1653
  4. you a god me make,] I a God become, 1653
  5. And] But 1664; But, 1668
  6. a devil’s shape I take.] I doe a Devil turne. 1653