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I walke to finde a true Love; and I see |
That 'tis not a mere woman, that is shee, |
But must or more or lesse than woman bee, |
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Yet know I not, which flower |
I wish; a sixe, or foure; |
For should my true-Love lesse than woman bee, |
Shee were scarce any thing; and then, should shee |
Be more than woman, she would get above |
All thought of sexe; and thinke to move |
My heart to study her, not to love; |
Both these were monsters; Since there must reside |
Falshood in woman, I could more abide, |
She were by art, then Nature falsify'd. |
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Live Primrose then, and thrive |
With thy true number five; |
And women, whom this flower doth represent, |
With this mysterious number be content; |
Ten is the farthest number, if halfe ten |
Belongs unto each woman, then |
Each woman may take halfe us men, |
Or if this will not serve their turne, Since all |
Numbers are odde, or even, since they fall |
First into five, women may take us all. |
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The Relique. |
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When my grave is broke up againe |
Some second ghest to entertaine,
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[CW: For] |