Ye bubling springs that gentle musick makes To louers plaints with hart sore throbs immixt, When as my deare this way her pleasure takes, Tell her with teares how firme my loue is fixt: And Philomel report my timerous feares And eccho sound my heighoes in her eares: But if she aske if I for loue will dye, Tell her good faith, good faith, good faith not I.
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