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[It may be Love my death doth not pretend]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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xxi

[It may be Love my death doth not pretend]

It may be Love my death doth not pretend,
Although he shoots at mee; but thinks it fit
Thus to bewitch thee for my benefit.
Causing thy will to my wish condiscend.
For witches which some murther doe intend
Doe make a picture and doe shoote at it;
And in that part where they the picture hit
The party's selfe doth languish to his end.
So Love, too weake by force thy hart to taint,
Within my hart thy heavenly shape doth paint,
Suffring therein his arrowes to abide;
Onely to th' end he might, by witches' arte,
Within my hart pierce through thy picture's side,
And through thy picture's side might wound thy hart.