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First, for your shape, the curious cannot show Any one part that's dissonant in you: And 'gainst your chaste behaviour there's no plea, Since you are known to be Penelope. Thus fair and clean you are, although there be A mighty strife 'twixt form and chastity. Form, beauty.

Fair and foul days trip cross and pile; the fair Far less in number than our foul days are. Trip cross and pile, come haphazard, like the heads and tails of coins.

Why, madam, will ye longer weep, Whenas your baby's lull'd asleep? And (pretty child) feels now no more Those pains it lately felt before. All now is silent; groans are fled: Your child lies still, yet is not dead; But rather like a flower hid here To spring again another year.