And since thou so desirously 
Did' st long to die, that long before thou could' st, 
And long since thou no more couldst dye, 
Thou in thy scatter'd mystique body wouldst 
In Abel dye, and ever since 
In thine; let their blood come 
To begge for us, a discreet patience 
Of death, or of worse life: for Oh, to Some 
Not to be Martyrs, is a martyrdoms.