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 ’Tis is but in vain, I mean not to upbraid ye, boys, ’Tis is but in vain For soldiers to complain, Should next campaign, Send us to him that made us, boys, We’re tree from pain! But if we remain. A bottle and kind Landlady Cures all again.

The Loving and United V.

in the month of February, when the trees do bud and spring, And little lambs do skip like fairies, birds-do couple, build and sing, All things on earth that do draw breath, in love together they do join, Why should not I my fortune try, and chafe me out some Valentine.

Thanks to kind features, I have my wishes, since that I have met my dear, Your fair face and lovely kisses, your fair face doth my heart cheer, My dearth, love and turtle dove, O let my arms about thee twine, For thou art she that first I see, good-morrow my fair Valentine.

O no, kind Sir, you are mistaken, you must chase other maid,