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39

[I louers had, had words been true]

I louers had, had words been true,
As many as faire Corinna had,
Yet when my foes me ouerthrew,
My friends looked on, and were right glad.
When he that earst did me defend
Vntill the day of dreadfull death
Did hasten most vnto mine end,
Striking the stroke which rest my breath,
And from my graue men me remoue,
Pretending still they doe me loue.

Venison hath many louers. The hunters reioice when the dogs kill it, and commonly the foster or keeper is the chiefe murderer. The graue is made of pasticrust: and for sheere loue we take out the corse and eate it.