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 Fashion'd like thee, which, though 't have ears And eyes, it neither sees or hears. Gifts will be sent, and letters, which Are the expressions of that itch, And salt, which frets thy suitors; fly Both, lest thou lose thy liberty; For, that once lost, thou't fall to one, Then prostrate to a million. But if they woo thee, do thou say, As that chaste Queen of Ithaca Did to her suitors, this web done, (Undone as oft as done), I'm won; I will not urge thee, for I know, Though thou art young, thou canst say no, And no again, and so deny Those thy lust-burning incubi. Let them enstyle thee fairest fair, The pearl of princes, yet despair That so thou art, because thou must Believe love speaks it not, but lust; And this their flattery does commend Thee chiefly for their pleasure's end. I am not jealous of thy faith, Or will be, for the axiom saith: He that doth suspect does haste A gentle mind to be unchaste. No, live thee to thy self, and keep Thy thoughts as cold as is thy sleep,