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* |
Come live with mee, and bee my love, |
And wee will some new pleasures prove |
Of golden sands, and christall brookes: |
With silken lines, and silver hookes.* |
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There will the river whispering runne |
Warm'd by thy eyes, more then the Sunne. |
And there th'inamor'd fish will stay, |
Begging themselves they may betray. |
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When thou wilt swimme in that live bath, |
Each fish, which every channell hath, |
Will amorously to thee swimme, |
Gladder to catch thee, then thou him. |
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If thou, to be so seene, beest loath, |
By Sunne, or Moone, thou darknest both, |
And if my selfe have leave to see, |
I need not their light, having thee. |
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Let others freeze with angling reeds, |
And cut their legges, which shells and weeds, |
Or treacherously poore fish beset, |
With strangling snare, or windowie net:* |
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Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest |
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest, |
Or curious traitors, sleavesicke flies |
Bewitch poore fishes wandring eyes.
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[CW: For] |