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Manure thyself then, to thyself be approved [f. 45v] |
And with vaine outward things be no more moved |
But to know, yt I love thee, and would be loved.| |
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To Sr Henry Wooton, |
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Here is no more newes then vertue, I may as well |
Tell yo:u Callis, or S:t Michells tale for newes as tell |
That vice doth here habitually dwell.| |
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Yett as to gett stomackes we walke vp & downe |
And toile to sweeten rest, So may god frowne |
If but to loth both, I haunt Courte or towne.| |
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For here no one is, from ye extremitye |
Of Vice, by anie other reason free |
But yt ye next to him, still is worse then he.| |
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In this worldes warfare, they whom rugged fate |
(Godes Comissarie) doth so throughly hate |
As in ye Courts squadron to marshall their state |
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If they stand armd, wth seely honesty |
Wth wishing prayers, & neat Integrity |
Like Indians gainst Spanish hostes they be
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[CW: om] |