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The triple Foole. |
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I am two fooles, I know, |
For loving, and for saying so |
In whining Poëtry; |
But where's that wise man, that would not be I, |
If she would not deny? |
Then as th'earths inward narrow crooked lanes |
Doe purge sea waters fretfull salt away, |
I thought, if I could draw my paines, |
Through Rimes vexation, I should them allay, |
Griefe brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, |
For, He tames it, that fetters it in verse. |
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But when I have done so, |
Some man his art and voyce to show, |
Doth Set and sing my paine, |
And, by delighting many, frees againe |
Griefe, which verse did restraine. |
To Love, and Griefe tribute of Verse belongs, |
But not of such as pleases when 'tis read, |
Both are increased by such songs: |
For both their triumphs so are published, |
And I, which was two fooles, do so grow three; |
Who are a little wise, the best fooles be.
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[CW: Lovers] |