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| Both by myself and many other friends.But he, his own affections' counselor, Is to himselfI will not say how true, But to himself so secret and so close,So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. We would as willingly give cure as know. | |
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| See, where he comes. So please you, step aside. Ill know his grievance or be much denied. | |
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| I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift.Come, madam, lets away | |
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| Good morrow, cousin. | |
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| Is the day so young? | |
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| But new struck nine. | |
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