| Oh, to vex me, contraryes meet in one:
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| In constancy unnaturally hath begott
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| A constant habit; |
| that when I would not
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| I change in vowes, and in devotione.
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| As humorous is my contritione
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| As my profane Love and as soone forgott:
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| As ridlingly distemper’d, cold and hott,
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| As praying, as mute; |
| as infinite, as none.
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| I durst not view Heav’n yesterday; |
| and today
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| In prayers, and flatt’ring speeches I court God:
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| Tomorrow I quake with true feare of his rod.
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| So my devout fitts come and go away,
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| Like a fantastique Ague: save that here
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| Those are my best dayes, when I shake with feare. |