On a Glasse Sent to His Best Beloved
Oft ye me aske, whome my sweet faire can be?
Looke in this christal and ye sal her see;
At least some schade of her it wil impart,
For sche no trew glasse hath excep my hart.
Ah! that my brest war made of christal faire,
That she might see her livelie portrait there.
Looke in this christal and ye sal her see;
At least some schade of her it wil impart,
For sche no trew glasse hath excep my hart.
Ah! that my brest war made of christal faire,
That she might see her livelie portrait there.
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