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hast redeem'd us, Will; and future times Shall not account unto the age's crimes Dearth of pure wit. Since the great lord of it, Donne parted hence, no man has ever writ So near him in 's own way: I would commend Particulars; but then, how should I end Without a volume? Ev'ry line of thine Would ask (to praise it right) twenty of mine.

Reason, Hate, did once bespeak Three mates to play at barley-break: Love, Folly took; and Reason, Fancy; And Hate consorts with Pride; so dance they: Love coupled last, and so it fell, That Love and Folly were in hell.

They break, and Love would Reason meet; But Hate was nimbler on her feet: Fancy looks for Pride, and thither Hies, and they two hug together: Yet this new coupling still doth tell That Love and Folly were in hell.

The rest do break again, and Pride Hath now got Reason on her side: Hate and Fancy meet, and stand Untoucht by Love in Folly's hand: Folly was dull, but Love ran well; So Love and Folly were in hell.

spare me, gentle boy; Press me no more for that slight toy, That foolish trifle of an heart: I swear it will not do its part, Though thou dost thine, employ'st thy power and art.