Then happy I, that love and am beloved
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
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Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
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Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon your dearest love to call,