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- # A Lovers
Are errors of the blood none of the minds
Loue made them not, with accrue they may be,
Where neither Party is nor crew nor kind,
They fought their shame that so their shame did find,
And so much lesse of shame in me remaines,
By how much of me their reproch containes,
Among the many that mine eyes have scene,
Not one whose flame my hart so much as warmed,
Or my affection put to th, smallest teene,
Or any of my leisure euer Charmed,
Harme haue I done to them but nere was harmed,
Kept hearts in liueries, but mine owne was free,
And raignd comasunding in his monarchy.
Looke heare what tributes wounded fancies sent me,
Of palyd pearles and rubies red as blood;
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me
Of greefe and blushes, aptly understood
In bloodlesse white, and the encrimson'd mood,
Effects of terror and deare modesty,
Encamp in hearts but fighting outwardly.
And Lo behold these talents of their heir,
With twisted mettle amorously empleache
I haue receau'd from many a several faire,
Their kind acceptance, wepingly beseech,
With th'annexions of faire gems inricht,
And deepe brain'd sonnets that did amplifie
Each stones deare Nature, worth and quallity.
The Diamond why twas beautifull and hard,
Whereeto his inuit'd properties did tend,
The deepe greene Enrald in whose fresh regard,
Weake fights their sickly radiance do amend,
The heaven hewd Saphir and the Opall blend
With
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