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On a time the Amorous Siluy.
The gordian knot which Alexander great.
What is all this world but vaine ?
In a Groue of Trees of Mirtle.
Shall I tell you whom I loue ?
My dearest and deuinest loue.
Bright Starre of Beauty, on whose Temples sit.
Thinke not tis I alone that sing her praise.
Ioy my Muse, since there is one.
My dayes, my moneths, my yeares.
Madame, for you I little grieue to dye.
Resound my voyce.
Vaine hope adue.
Sweet was the song the Virgin sung.
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