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Yet stay with mee since thou art come, |
Circle this fingers top, which did'st her thombe. |
Be justly proud, and gladly safe, that thou dost dwell with me, |
She that, Oh, broke her faith, would soon breake thee. |
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Negative love. |
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I never stoop'd so low, as they |
Which on an eye, cheeke, lip, can prey, |
Seldome to them, which soare no higher |
Then vertue or the minde to'admire, |
For sense, and understanding may |
Know, what gives fuell to their fire: |
My love, though silly, is more brave, |
For may I misse, when ere I crave, |
If I know yet, what I would have. |
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If that be simply perfectest |
Which can by no way be exprest |
But Negatives, my love is so. |
To All, which all love, I say no. |
If any who deciphers best, |
What we know not, our selves, can know, |
Let him teach mee that nothing; This |
As yet my ease, and comfort is, |
Though I speed not, I cannot misse.
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[CW: The] |