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Lucasta

Posthume Poems of Richard Lovelace
 

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To Rufus.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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To Rufus.

That no fair woman will, wonder not why
Clap (Rufus) under thine her tender thigh;
Not a silk gown shall once melt one of them,
Nor the delights of a transparent gemme
A scurvy story kills thee, which doth tell
That in thine armpits a fierce goat doth dwell.
Him they all fear-full of an ugly stinch,
Nor's 't fit he should lye with a handsome wench;
Wherefore this Noses cursed plague first crush,
Or cease to wonder why they fly you thus.