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Dearest of thousands, now the time draws near That with my lines my life must full-stop here. Cut off thy hairs, and let thy tears be shed Over my turf when I am buried. Then for effusions, let none wanting be, Or other rites that do belong to me; As love shall help thee, when thou dost go hence Unto thy everlasting residence. Effusions, the "due drink-offerings" of the lyric "To his lovely mistresses" (634).


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In a dream, Love bade me go To the galleys there to row; In the vision I ask'd why? Love as briefly did reply, 'Twas better there to toil, than prove The turmoils they endure that love. I awoke, and then I knew What Love said was too-too true; Henceforth therefore I will be, As from love, from trouble free. None pities him that's in the snare, And, warned before, would not beware.


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Come sit we by the fire's side, And roundly drink we here; Till that we see our cheeks ale-dy'd And noses tann'd with beer.