For the first twenty yeares, since yesterday,
I scarce beleev'd, thou could'st be gone away,
For forty more, I fed on favours past,
And forty'on hopes, that thou would'st, they might last.
Teares drown'd one hundred, and sighes blew out two,
A thousand, I did neither thinke, nor doe,
Or not divide, all being one thought of you;
Or in a thousand more, forgot that too.
Yet call not this long life; But thinke that I
Am, by being dead, Immortall; Can ghosts die?
[The Computation. 1633-69, A18, N, TCC, TCD: no
title, B, O'F, S]
[1 For 1633-54: From 1669
the 1633, A18, N, TC: my 1635-69, B, O'F, S,
Chambers]
[3 For] And 1669]
[6 One thousand I did think nothing nor doe, S, O'F
(nothing think) doe, 1635-69: doe. 1633]
[7 divide, 1633, 1669: deem'd, 1635-54, O'F]
[8 a] one O'F, S: line dropped A18, N, TC
forgot] forget 1669, A18, N, O'F, S, TC]