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Is man now, then before he was, he was, [f. 44v] |
Nothing for vs wee are for nothing fitt |
Chance or ourselves still disproportōn it, |
Wee haue noe power, noe will, noe sense, I lye |
I should not then, thus feele this misery,| |
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To Mr Rowland Woodward |
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Like one who in her third widdowhead doth profess |
Herself a Nunne, tied to retirednes, |
So affects my muse, now a chast fallownes; |
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Since Shee to few, yett too too many hath showne |
How love songe-weedes, & Satyrique thornes are growne |
Where seedes of better artes, weare early sowne| |
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Though to vse and love poetry, to me |
Betrothd to noe one art, be no Adultery |
Omissions of good, ill, as ill deeds be| |
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For though to vs it seeme, & be light and thinn |
Yett in those faithfull scales, where God throwes in |
Mens workes, Vanity wages as much as sin.|
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[CW: om] |