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Goe thither still, goe the same way you went [193] |
Who ere would change, do couet or repent. |
Neyther can reach you. Great, and Innocent. |
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To the Countesse of Bedford. |
Twitnam |
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Madame. You haue refin'd mee, and to worthiest things, |
Vertue, art, beauty, fortune; Now I see |
Rarenesse, or vse, not nature, valew brings |
And such as they ar circumstanc'd they bee |
Two Ills can ne're perplex vs sinne t'excuse |
But of 2 good things wee may leaue and choose |
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Therefore at Court, wch is not Vertues Clime, |
Where a transcendent heigth, (as lownesse mee) |
Makes her not bee, or not shew, all my Rime |
Yor vertues challenge w.ch there rarest bee |
ffor as dark Texts neede notes, some, there, must bee |
To vsher vertue, and say, This is shee. |
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So in the Country is beauty. To this place |
You ar the season, Madame, you the day |
Tis but a graue of Spices till yor face |
Exhale them, and a thick close budd display |
Widdowd and reclus'd else her sweets she inshrines |
As China when the Sunn at Brasile dines.
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[CW: Out___] |