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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
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
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
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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