| POOR soul, the centre of my sinful earth | |
| Fool’d by these rebel powers that thee array, | |
| Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, | |
| Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? | |
| Why so large cost, having so short a lease, | 5 |
| Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? | |
| Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, | |
| Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body’s end? | |
| Then soul, live thou upon thy servant’s loss, | |
| And let that pine to aggravate thy store; | 10 |
| Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; | |
| Within be fed, without be rich no more: | |
| So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, | |
| And Death once dead, there ’s no more dying then. |