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253

[Loved I am, and yet complaine of Love]

[Zelmane.]
Loved I am, and yet complaine of Love:
As loving not, accus'd, in Love I die.
When pittie most I crave, I cruell prove:
Still seeking Love, love found as much I flie.
Burnt in my selfe, I muse at others fire:
What I call wrong, I doo the same, and more:
Bard of my will, I have beyond desire:
I waile for want, and yet am chokte with store.
This is thy worke, thou God for ever blinde:
Though thousands old, a Boy entit'led still.
Thus children doo the silly birds they finde,
With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill.
Yet thus much Love, O Love, I crave of thee:
Let me be lov'd, or els not loved be.