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- # SHAKE-SPEAKS
Therefore my Misterfse eyes are Rauen blacke,
Her eyes so futed, and they mourners feeme,
At fuch who not borne faire no beauty lack,
Slandring Creation with a false efteme,
Yet so they mournc becomming of their woe,
That euery toung faies beauty should looke fo.
128
How oft when thou my musike musike playft,
Vpon that bleffed wood whofe motion founds
With thy fweet fingers when thou gently fwayft,
The wiry concord that mine eare confounds,
Do I enuie those lackes that nimble leape,
To kiffe the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilft my poore lips which should that harueft reape,
At the woods bouldnes by thee bluffing ftand.
To be fo tikkled they would change their ftare,
And fituation with thofe dancing chips,
Ore whome their fingers walke with gentle gate,
Making dead wood more bleft then liuing lips,
Since faufie lackes fo happy are in this,
Giue them their fingers, me thy lips to kiffe.
129
The expence of Spirit in a wafte of fhame
Is luft in action, and till action, luft
Is periurd, murdrous, blouddy full of blame,
Sauage, extreame, rude, cruell, not to truft,
Inioyd no fooner but difpifed ftraighr,
Paft reafon hunted, and no sooner had
Paft reafon hated as a fwollowed bayr,
On purpose layd to make the taker mad.
Made In purfut and in poffeffion fo,
Had, hauing, and in queft, to haue extreame,
A bliffe in proofe and proud and very wo,
Before a joy propofd behind a dreame,
All this the world well knowes yet none knowes well,
To fhun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
My
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