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Hee is starke madd who euer sayes [262] |
That hee hath bin in loue an hower |
Yet not that Loue so soone decayes |
But that it can ten in lesse space deuoure. |
Who will beleeue me if I sweare |
That I haue had the plague a yeare? |
Who would not laugh at mee if I should say |
I saw a flask of powder burne a day |
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Ah what a trifle is a hart |
If once into loues hands it come |
All other Greefes allow a part |
To other Greefes, and aske themselues by some |
They come to vs, but vs Love drawes |
Hee swallows vs, and never chawes |
By him as by chayne shott whole rankes do dye |
Her is the Tyrant Pike, our harts the frye |
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If t'were not so, what could become |
of my heart when I first sawe thee |
I brought a hart into the roome |
But from the roome I carryed none with mee |
If it had gon to thine, I knowe |
Mine would haue taught thy heart to showe |
More pitty vnto mee, but Love, alas, |
At one first blowe did shiuer it as glasse |
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Yet nothing can to nothing fall |
Nor any place bee empty quite |
Therefore I thinke my brest hath all |
Those peeces still, though they bee not vnite |
And now, as broken glasses showe |
A hundred lesser faces: so |
My raggs of heart can like, wish, and adore |
But after one such Love can loue no more
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[CW: Send home] |