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In barture of your Love , which you do prize so high Erastes you have dar'd presume to ask me mine ; Sometimes I may admit of Love indeed , yet I Mean it shall cost me nought , — else I should soon decline . To give you heart .....
Transparant Beauty , whose most open Heart !
Your Soul unto the bottom makes me see .
TRansparent Beauty , whose most open heart The bottom of your Soul does make me see , Now I confess , of me you have the start , Since in your breast my Heart lives doubtfullie . I thought it should have found it's Palace there , Where you did mean to treat it as your King ; But I have mourn'd , sob'd , sigh'd , dropt many a Tear , And still have languish'd without profiting . Yet will I not account at all with you , What you propound will be but to your shame : Should you for ev'ry sigh , and show'r that 's due , Stand debtor , it the Reck'ning would inflame . My dolefull Sighs do ever make you smile . Tho like a Tempest in my breast they throng : Your Heart my weights disdains ; take heed the while , Light as they are , th' out-weigh not yours e're long .