A WOMANS face
with Natures own hand painted |
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Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; |
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A womans gentle heart, but not acquainted |
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With shifting change, as is false womens
fashion: |
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An eye more bright than theirs, less false
in rolling, |
5 |
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; |
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A man in hue all hues in his controlling, |
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Which steals mens eyes and womens
souls amazeth. |
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And for a woman wert thou first created; |
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Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, |
10 |
And by addition me of thee defeated, |
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By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. |
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But since she prickd thee
out for womens pleasure, |
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Mine be thy love, and thy loves
use their treasure. |
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