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The Whole Works of William Browne

of Tavistock ... Now first collected and edited, with a memoir of the poet, and notes, by W. Carew Hazlitt, of the Inner Temple

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[Wellcome, wellcome, doe I sing]

Wellcome, wellcome, doe I sing,
Far more wellcome yn ye spring;
He that parteth from you neuer,
Shall enioy a spring for euer.
Love, that to ye voice is nere
Breaking from your Iu'ry pale,
Need not walke abroad to heare
The delightfull Nightingale.
Wellcome, wllc ome, then I sing,
Far more welcome yn ye spring;

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He that parteth from you neuer,
Shall enioy a spring for euer.
Love, that lookes still on your eyes,
Though ye winter haue begun
To benumbe our Arteryes,
Shall not want the Summers Sun.
Wellcome, wellcome, yn I sing, &c.
Love that still may see your cheekes,
Where all rarenes still reposes,
Is a foole, if ere he seekes
Other Lillyes, other roses.
Wellcome, wellcome, &c.
Love, to whom your soft lips yeelds,
And perceiues your breath in kissing,
All the Odours of the fields
Neuer, neuer shall be missing.
Wellcome, &c.
Love that question would anew
What faire Eden was of old,
Let him rightly study you,
And a briefe of that behold.
Welcome, welcome, yn I, &c.