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* |
Send home my long strayed eyes to mee, |
Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee, |
Yet since there they have learn'd such ill, |
Such forc'd fashions, |
And false passions, |
That they be |
Made by thee |
Fit for no good fight, keep them still. |
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Send home my harmlesse heart againe, |
Which no unworthy thought could staine, |
Which if it be taught by thine |
To make jestings |
Of protestings, |
And breake both |
Word and oath, |
Keepe it, for then 'tis none of mine. |
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Yet send me back my heart and eyes, |
That I may know, and see thy lyes, |
And may laugh and joy, when thou |
Art in anguish |
And dost languish |
For some one |
That will none, |
Or prove as false as thou art now.
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[CW: A*] |
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