One the Morening the King Was Taken Ill My Dreame of Him

in a deep sleep
a sene of darknes did my soule a fryght:
I saw mee thout a man home I beefore had seene
throune cross a chair pale and coold as if hee dead had beene
one of his arms held up a surgion by
to Lett him bloud in this Extreamity
in great distraction I crying said,
hoe is itt hould him up a Lass I am a fraid
that he can never Bleed, for sure that arm is dead
with my still asking hoe hee was mee thought the Roome did ring
in this confution I heard one say, oh god itt is the king.
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