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Yet I found something like a heart, |
But colours it, and corners had, |
It was not good, it was not bad, |
It was intire to none, and few had part. |
As good as could be made by art |
It seem'd, and therfore for our losses sad, |
I meant to send this heart in stead of mine, |
But oh, no man could hold it, for twas thine. |
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A Feaver. |
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Oh doe not die, for I shall hate |
All women so, when thou art gone, |
That thee I shall not celebrate, |
When I remember, thou wast one. |
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But yet thou canst not die, I know, |
To leave this world behinde, is death, |
But when thou from this world wilt goe, |
The whole world vapours with thy breath. |
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Or if, when thou, the worlds soule, goest, |
It stay, tis but thy carkasse then, |
The fairest woman, but thy ghost, |
But corrupt wormes, the worthyest men.
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[CW: O] |