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[Though your strangenesse fretts my heart]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


40

[Though your strangenesse fretts my heart]

Though your strangenesse fretts my heart,
Yet may not I Complaine,
You perswade me 'tis but Art,
That secret Love must feigne.
If another you affect,
'Tis but a shew t'avoyd suspect,
Is this faire excusing,

41

O no all is abusing.
When another holds your hand,
You sweare I have your heart:
When my Rivalls close doe stand,
And I stand farre apart.
They enjoy you every one,
Yet must I seeme your friend alone;
Is this faire excusing,
O no all is abusing.