| Come again
|
| Sweet love doth now invite
|
| Thy graces that refrain,
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| To do me due delight,
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| To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die,
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| With thee again in sweetest sympathy
|
| Come again
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| That I may cease to mourn,
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| Through thy unkind disdain:
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| For now left and forlorn,
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| I sit, I sight, I weep, I faint, I die,
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| In deadly pain and endless misery.
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| All the day
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| The sun that lends me shine,
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| By frowns do cause me pine,
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| And feeds me with delay,
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| Her smiles my springs, that makes my Joys to grow,
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| Her frowns the winters of my woe:
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| Gentle Love
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| Draw forth thy wounding dart,
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| Thou canst not pierce her heart,
|
| For I that to approve,
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| By sighs and tears more hot than are thy shafta,
|
| Did tempt while she for triumph laughs. |