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All women shall adore us, and some men; |
And since at such time, miracles are sought, |
I would have that age by this paper taught |
What miracles wee harmelesse lovers wrought. |
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First, we lov'd well and faithfully, |
Yet knew not what wee lov'd, nor why, |
Difference of sex no more wee knew, |
Then our Guardian Angells doe, |
Comming and going, wee, |
Perchance might kisse, but not between those meales |
Our hands ne'r toucht the seales, |
Which nature, injur'd by late law, sets free, |
These miracles wee did; but now alas, |
All measure, and all language, I should passe, |
Should I tell what a miracle shee was. |
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The Dampe. |
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When I am dead, and Doctors know not why, |
And my friends curiositie |
Will have me cut up to survay each part, |
When they shall finde your Picture in my heart, |
You thinke a sodaine dampe of love |
Will through all their senses move, |
And worke on them as mee, and so preferre |
Your murder, to the name of Massacre.
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[CW: Poore] |