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Twicknam Garden. |
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Blasted with Sighs and surrounded with teares [254] |
Hither I come to seeke the spring |
And at mine eyes and at mine eares |
Receaue such balme, as, else, cures euery thing |
But ô selfe-Traytor, I doe bring |
The Spider loue wch transubstantiats all |
And can conuert Manna to gall. |
And that this place may thoroughly bee thought, |
True paradise, I haue the Serpent brought. |
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T'were wholesomer for mee, that winter did |
Benight the glory of this place |
And that a gray frost did forbidd |
These Trees to laugh and mocke mee to my face. |
But, that I may not this disgrace |
Indure, nor leaue this Garden, (loue) let mee |
Some sencelesse peece of this place bee |
Make mee a Mandrake, So I may grow heere |
Or a Stone fountayne weeping out the yeare |
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Hither w.th Christall vyalls Louers come, |
And take my Teares, wch ar Loues wine |
And trye yor M.rs Teares at home |
ffor all ar false that tast not iust like mine |
Alas, hearts do not in eyes shine |
Nor can you more iudge woemens thoughts by Teares |
Then by her shadow what she weares. |
O perverse Sexe where none is true but shee |
Who's therefore true because her truth kills mee
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[CW: I am___] |