IN faith, I do not
love thee with mine eyes |
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For they in thee a thousand errors note; |
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But tis my heart that loves what they
despise, |
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Who, in despite of view, is pleasd
to dote. |
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Nor are mine ears with thy tongues
tune delighted; |
5 |
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, |
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Nor taste, nor smell desire to be invited |
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To any sensual feast with thee alone: |
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But my five wits nor my five senses can |
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Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, |
10 |
Who leaves unswayd the likeness of
a man, |
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Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch
to be: |
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Only my plague thus far I count
my gain, |
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That she that makes me sin awards
me pain. |
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