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To a Mistris in whose Letter some Tears were dropt.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To a Mistris in whose Letter some Tears were dropt.

Think not my dearest Mistris, that I can
Forget my vows to thee, and be a man:
Love is for more then life, that's but a span.
Those drops which on thy Letter did appear,
At once both stain'd and made thy paper clear,
I would have read thy eyes, and not thy tear.
Yet Ile not chide thee for it, it may be
To make me rich thou sentst those pearls to me:
Alas, I must be poor in wanting thee.
Had I a thought about me did not lay
Thee up a treasure to my love, Ide say
Thy tears were sorrow for my sin, and pray.

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But knowing my selfe thine, how e're thou do
An act to grieve my love, and thy owne too,
My self Ile flatter by not thinking so.
Examine thy own soul, and if thou find
Faith there, it was but coppyed from my mind;
Which may be wounded, never be unkind.
So farewel my Odelia, be thou just,
For when I die, I'le love thee in my dust;
And when I fail thee most, secure thy trust.