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In your thought wish me prosper, And I am fortifide against the power Of fate to seperate us; and when thou art Within the amorous circle of my armes, We will make lawes to love; teach him new motion Or chaine him with the cordage of his haire, Like a tame thing, to walke, and watch our pillow And be our pleasures Centinell. La. Fra. All that's sweet attend thee.
Blush in thine age, bad man; thy grave blush for thee And scorne to hide that man that holds no Creadit. 'Tis not your face, Sir, The greatnes of your friends, corruptly purchast, The Crying up of your manie Services, Which lookd into wither away like Mushrumps, Shall scandall us. 2 Lord. Your Romaine end, to make men Imagine your strong conscience fortifide, No, nor your ground Religion.
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