| Can she excuse my wrongs with vertues cloak?
|
| Shall I call her good when she proues vnkind?
|
| Are those cleer fires which vanish into smoak?
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| Must I praise the leaues where no fruit I find?
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| No no: where shadows do for bodies stand,
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| Thou maist be abusde if thy sight be dim.
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| Cold love is like to words written on sand,
|
| Or to bubbles which on the water swim.
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| Wilt thou be thus abused still,
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| Seeing that she wil right thee neuer?
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| If thou canst not orecome her will,
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| Thy loue wil be thus fruitles euer.
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| Was I so base, that I might not aspire,
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| Vnto those high ioyes which she holds from me?
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| As they are high, so high is my desire:
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| If she this denie, what can granted be?
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| If she will yeeld to that which reason is,
|
| It is reasons will that loue should be iust.
|
| Deare make me happy still by granting this,
|
| Or cut off delayes if that die I must.
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| Better a thousand times to die,
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| Then for to liue thus still tormented:
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| Deare but remember it was I,
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| Who for thy sake did die contented. |