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The louer professeth himself constant.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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The louer professeth himself constant.

Within my brest I neuer thought it gain,
Of gentle mynde the fredom for to lose.
Nor in my hart sanck neuer such disdain,
To be a forger, faultes for to disclose.
Nor I can not endure the truth to glose,
To set a glosse vpon an earnest pain.
Nor I am not in nomber one of those,
That list to blow retrete to euery train.