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Can she excuse my wrongs with Virtueâs cloak
Shall I call her good when she proves unkind
Are those clear fires which vanish into smoke
Must I praise the leaves where no fruit I find
No no: where shadows do for bodies stand
Thou mayâst be abusâd if thy sight be dim
Cold love is like to words written on sand
Or to bubbles which on the water swim
Wilt thou be thus abused still
Seeing that she will right thee never
If thou canâst not oâercome her will
Thy love will be thus fruitless ever
Was I so base, that I might not aspire
Unto those high joys which she holds from me
As they are high, so high is my desire
If she this deny, what can granted be
If she will yield to that which Reason is,
It is Reasonâs will that Love should be just
Dear, make me happy still by granting this
Or cut off delays if that I die must
Better a thousand times to die
Than for to live thus still tormented
Dear, but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die contented
- Álbum:
- The Plum Tree and the Rose