THOU blind fool, Love,
what dost thou to mine eyes |
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That they behold, and see not what they see? |
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They know what beauty is, see where it lies, |
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Yet what the best is take the worst to be. |
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If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks, |
5 |
Be anchord in the bay where all men
ride, |
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Why of eyes falsehood hast thou forged
hooks, |
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Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied? |
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Why should my heart think that a several
plot |
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Which my heart knows the wide worlds
common place? |
10 |
Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not, |
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To put fair truth upon so foul a face? |
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In things right true my heart
and eyes have errd, |
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And to this false plague are
they now transferrd. |
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