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Sonnet XXXVII.
[Did I not loue her as a Louer ought]
Did I not loue her as a Louer ought,with purest zeale, and faithfulnes of hart,
Then shee had cause to set my loue at nought,
and I had well deseru'd to feele this smart,
But holding her so deerely as I doe,
as a rare Iewell of most high esteeme,
Shee most vnkindly wounds and kills me, so
my nere-stain'd troth most causeles to misdeeme,
Neuer did one account of woman more,
then I of her, nor euer woman yet,
Respected lesse, or held in lesser store
her Louers vowes, then shee by mine doth set.
VVhat resteth then, but I dispaire and die,
That so my death may glut her ruthlesse eye.
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