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AWAY; let nought to Love displeasing,
My Winifreda, move your Care;
Let nought delay the heavnly Blessing,
Nor squeamish Pride, nor gloomy Fear.
What tho no Grants of Royal Donors
With pompous Titles grace our Blood?
Well shine in more substantial Honours,
And, to be Noble, well be good.
Through Youth and Age, in Love excelling,
Well hand in hand together tread;
Sweet-smiling Peace shall crown our dwelling,
And babes, sweet-smiling babes, our bed.
And, when with envy Time transported
Shall think to rob us of our Joys;
Youll, in your Girls, again be courted,
And Ill go wooing in my Boys.
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