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For theis there needs noe such deceite, [f. 77] |
Thou* thy selfe art thine owne bayte |
That fish that is not ketcht thereby |
Alas, is wiser farr then I. |
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The Aparition. |
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When by thy scorne, oh Murdress, I am dead |
And that thou thinkst thee free |
From all solicitatōn from me, |
Then shall my Ghost come to thy bedd, |
And thee faind vestall in worse armes shall see, |
Then thy sick Taper will begin to winck |
And he whose thou art then, being tired before |
Will, if thou stirr, or pinch to wake him, thinke |
Thou callst for more, |
And in false sleepe, will from thee shrinck, |
Thou poore Aspen wretch neglected then |
Both in a Cold quick silver sweat wilt lye |
A verier ghost then I. |
What I will say I will not tell thee now |
Least yt preserve Thee, And since my loue is spent, |
I had rather, Thou shouldst painfully repent |
Then by my threatnings rest still innocent.|
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[CW: om] |