_Jam_.

When thou art dead,
I am sure I shall not.

_Mil_.

Now they begin to burn
Like oppos'd Meteors.

_Ars_.

Give them line, and way,
My life for _Don Jamie_.

_Jam_.

Continue still
The excellent Husband, and joyn Farm to Farm,
Suffer no Lordship, that in a clear day
Falls in the prospect of your covetous eye
To be anothers; forget you are a Grandee;
Take use upon use, and cut the throats of Heirs
With cozening Mortgages: rack your poor Tenants,
Till they look like so many Skeletons
For want of Food; and when that Widows curses,
The ruines of ancient Families, tears of Orphans
Have hurried you to the Devil, ever remember
All was rak'd up for me (your thankful Brother)