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I am holy while I stand Circum-crost by thy pure hand; But when that is gone, again I, as others, am profane. Circum-crost, marked round with a cross.

When I go hence, ye Closet-Gods, I fear Never again to have ingression here Where I have had whatever thing could be Pleasant and precious to my muse and me. Besides rare sweets, I had a book which none Could read the intext but myself alone. About the cover of this book there went A curious-comely clean compartlement, And, in the midst, to grace it more, was set A blushing, pretty, peeping rubelet. But now 'tis closed; and being shut and seal'd, Be it, O be it, never more reveal'd! Keep here still, Closet-Gods, 'fore whom I've set Oblations oft of sweetest marmelet. Ingression, entrance. Intext, contents.

Fill me a mighty bowl Up to the brim, That I may drink Unto my Jonson's soul.