| Truth Feareth No Tryall |
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| He Lykeneth His Lotte to Virgils |
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| Helpe Best Welcome, When Most Needefull |
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| What Nature Severeth, Arte Hardly Joyneth |
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| He Complayneth His Mishap, With Promise to Keepe Her Honor |
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| No Newe Fancies, Shall Alter Olde Lyking |
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| Of the Golden Worlde |
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| He Wysheth Well to the Crabbe and Maple Tree in Milfeelde, for the Ladies Sake That Met There under Them |
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| G. to His Ladye |
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| A Dreame |
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