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As Lots fayre guests were vexd. But none of these [128] |
Nor spungy Hydropique Dutch shall thee displease |
If thou stay heere. Ô stay heere. for, for thee |
England is onely a worthy Gallery, |
To walke in expectation till from thence |
Our greatest King call thee to his presence. |
When I am gon, dreame mee some happinesse |
Nor let thy lookes our long-hidd loue confesse. |
Nor prayse, nor disprayse mee, nor blesse, nor curse |
Openly Loues force, nor in bedd fright thy Nurse |
With Midnights startings, crying out, oh oh |
Nurse, ô my Loue is slayne, I sawe him goe |
O're the white Alpes alone, I sawe him I, |
Assayld, fight, taken, stabbd, bleed, fall, and dye. |
Augure mee better chance except dread Ioue |
Thinke it enough for mee to haue had thy loue.| |
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Elegie .10. |
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Heere take |my| Picture, though I bidd farewell |
|Thine| in my heart, where my soule dwells shall dwell |
Tis like mee, now, but, I dead, t'will bee more |
When wee are shadowes both then t'was before |
When weather beaten I come back, my hand |
Perhaps with rude oares torne, or Sunne beames tan'd |
My face and brest of hayre cloth, and my head |
With cares harsh suddayne hoarinesse or'espredd |
My body a sack of bones broken within |
And powders blew staynes scatterd on my skin.
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[CW: If__] |