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This hour her Vigil, and her Eve since this |
Both the years, and the dayes deep midnight is. |
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Witchcraft by a Picture. |
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I fix mine eye on thine, and there |
Pity my picture burning in thine eye, |
My picture drown'd in a transparent tear, |
When I look lower I espy, |
Hadst thou the wicked skill, |
By pictures made and mard, to kill; |
How many wayes mightst thou perform thy will? |
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But now I have drunk thy sweet salt tears, |
Although thou powre more, I'll depart: |
My picture vanish, vanish fears, |
That I can be endammag'd by that art: |
Though thou retain of me |
One picture more, yet that will be, |
Being in thine own heart, from all malice free. |
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The Bait. |
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Come live with me. and be my love, |
And we will some new pleasures prove |
Of golden sands, and crystal brookes: |
With silken lines and silver hookes. |
There will the river whispring run |
Warm'd by thine eyes, more than the Sun. |
And there th'inamour'd fish will play, |
Begging themselves they may betray.
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[CW: When] |