| Aye me, that love should natures workes accuse! |
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| To the Right Honourable, Both in Birth and Vertue, Francis, Earle of Cumberland |
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| To the World |
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| Shall then a traiterous kis or a smile |
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| Bravely deckt, come forth, bright day |
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| Now let her change and spare not |
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| If I hope, I pine; if I feare, I faint and die |
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| What Then Is Love But Mourning? |
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| The Peaceful Western Wind |
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| What If a Day |
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