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And now they joyn'd, keeping some quality * |
Of every past shape; she knew treachery, |
Rapine, deceit, and lust, and ils enough |
To be a woman. Themech she is now, |
Sister and wife to Cain, Cain that first did plow. |
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LII. |
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Who ere thou beest that read'st this sullen Writ |
Which just so much courts thee; as thou dost it, |
Let me arrest thy thoughts; wonder with me |
Why plowing, building, ruling and the rest, |
Or most of those arts, whence our lives are blest, |
By cursed Cains race invented be, |
And blest Seth vext us with Astronomy. |
There's nothing simply good, nor ill alone, |
Of every quality comparison |
The only measure is, and judge Opinion. |
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HOLY SONNETS, |
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La Corona. |
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1. Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise, |
Weav'd in my lone devout melancholy, |
Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasurie, |
All changing unchang'd, Ancient of dayes, |
But do not with a vile crown of frail bayes, |
Reward my Muses white sinceritie, |
But what thy thorny crown gain'd, that give me, |
A crown of Glory, which doth flowre alwayes,
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[CW: The] |