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 Shall stand for ever, though I do address Chiefly myself to what I must profess. Know yet, rare soul, when my diviner muse Shall want a handmaid (as she oft will use), Be ready, thou for me, to wait upon her, Though as a servant, yet a maid of honour. The crown of duty is our duty: well Doing's the fruit of doing well. Farewell. Shoring, copies soaring.

Fly hence, pale care, no more remember Past sorrows with the fled December, But let each pleasant cheek appear Smooth as the childhood of the year, And sing a carol here. 'Twas brave, 'twas brave, could we command the hand Of youth's swift watch to stand As you have done your day; Then should we not decay. But all we wither, and our light Is spilt in everlasting night, Whenas your sight Shows like the heavens above the moon, Like an eternal noon That sees no setting sun. Keep up those flames, and though you shroud Awhile your forehead in a cloud,