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Loues Diet |
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To what a combersome vnweildinesse [265] |
And burdenous Corpulence my loue had growne |
But that I did, to make it lesse |
And keepe it in proportion, |
Giue it a dyet, made it feede vpon |
That, wch Loue worst edures, discretion? |
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Aboue one Sigh a day I allowd him not |
Of wch my fortunes and my faults had part |
And if sometimes by stealth hee got |
A Shee-sigh from my M.rs hart |
And thought to feede on that, I let him see |
T'was neyther very sound, nor ment to mee |
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If hee wrung from mee a teare, I brin'd it so |
With Scorne or Shame, that him it nourishd not |
If hee suckd hers, I let him knowe |
T'was not a teare that hee had got |
His drink was counterfeat as was his meate |
ffor eyes that rowle towards all, weepe not, but sweate |
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What ever hee would dictate* I wrote that |
But burnt my letters if shee wrote to mee |
And that* that favour made him fat |
I sayd, if any title bee |
Conveyd by this, Ah what doth it avayle |
To bee the forty'th name in an entayle? |
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Thus I reclaymd my buzzard Love to flie |
At what, and when, and how, and where I choose |
Now negligent of Sport I lye |
And now as other falconers vse |
I spring a Mistresse, sigh, sweare, write and weepe |
And the game kill'd, or lost, goe talke or sleepe
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[CW: I long] |