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Elegy. 2. |
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Once, and but once, found in thy company [115] |
All thy supposed scapes ar layd on mee |
And as a theefe at barr is questiond there |
By all the men that haue bin robbd that yeare: |
So am I (by this traytrous meanes surprised) |
By thy Hydropique father catechized. |
Though hee had wont to search with glazed eyes |
As though hee came to kill a Cocatrice |
Though hee hath oft sworne that hee would remoue |
Thy beautyes beawty, and food of our loue |
Hope of his goods, if I with thee were seene |
Yet close and secret as our soules wee haue been. |
Though thy im̀„ortall Mother w.ch doth lye |
Still buryed in her bedd, yet will not dye |
Take this advantage, to sleepe out day light |
And watch thy entryes and returnes at night |
And when shee takes thy hand, and would seeme kind |
Doth search what rings and armelets shee can find |
And kissing notes the colour of thy face |
And fearing least th'art swolne, doth thee embrace |
And, to trye if thou long, doth name strange meats |
And notes thy palenesse, blushings, sighs, and sweats |
And politiquely will to thee confesse |
The sinnes of her owne youths ranke lustinesse. |
Yet loue those sorceryes did remoue, and moue |
Thee to gull thine owne Mother for my loue. |
Thy little brethren, w.ch like fayry sprights |
Oft skipt into our chamber those sweete nights |
And kissd and dandled on thy fathers knee |
Were bribd to tell next day what they did see
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[CW: That___] |