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[XXVII. Her haire, the net of goulden wire]

Her haire, the net of goulden wire

Her haire, the net of goulden wire, Wherin my heart, Led by my wandring eye, So fast entangled is, entangled is, That in no wise it can or will againe retire, againe, againe, retire. But rather will in that sweet bondage die, Then breake one haire to gaine her liberty. But rather will in that sweet bondage dye, Then breake one haire, to gaine her liberty.