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Tixall Poetry.
To Mr Nevill,
at His Departure.
Betwixt true, reall frends there neede
No last farewells to intercede;
Those be for them that feare to mis
A parting cup or parting kis.
Your absence will be death to me;
And those who must beheaded be,
Think it a favour not to know
The coming of the fatal blow.
Let boisterous souldiers sound retreates,
And leave their foes with clamorous threats;
In silence you your parting shroud;
The sun sets oftest in a cloud.
Yet though we part, and though the lines
Of Ptolomy, (whose strength combines
No last farewells to intercede;
Those be for them that feare to mis
A parting cup or parting kis.
Your absence will be death to me;
And those who must beheaded be,
Think it a favour not to know
The coming of the fatal blow.
Let boisterous souldiers sound retreates,
And leave their foes with clamorous threats;
In silence you your parting shroud;
The sun sets oftest in a cloud.
Yet though we part, and though the lines
Of Ptolomy, (whose strength combines
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