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King Pandion, he is dead;
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead:
All thy fellow birds do fing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.

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Whilst as fickle fortune smild,
Thou and I were both beguild,
Every one that flatters thee,
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easy like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find.
Every man will be thy friend,
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want,
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such like flattering,

Pity but be were a king.'

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If he be addiet to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have him at commandment;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewel his great renown:
They that fawn'd on hiin before,
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need ;
If tliou forrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep:

Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear thee part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from Aattering foe.

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XIX.
Take, oh, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn;
But by my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but seald in vain.
Hide, oh, hide, those hills of snow
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow,
Are of those that April wears.
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icey chains by thee.

XX.
Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the fole Arabian tree,
Herald fad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chalte wings obey.
But thou shrinking harbinger,
Foul pre-currer of the fiend,,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.

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From this fefsion interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feathered king
Keep the obsequy lo strict.
Let the priest in furplice white,
That defunctive mufic can,
Be the death ining swan,
Left the requiem lack his right.
And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy fable gender mak'st
With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
'Mongst our mourners Thalt thou go.

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Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together ;,
To themselves yet either . neither,
Simple were so well compounded,
That it cried, how true a twain,
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain.
Whereupon it made this threne
To the phonix and the dove,
Co.Supremes and stars of love,
As chorus to their tragic scene.

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FROM off a hill whose concave womb re-worded

A plaintful story from a filtering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I lay to list the fad-tun'd tale :
Ere long elpy'd a fickle maid full pale,

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Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.
Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
Which fortify'd her visage from the sun,
Whereon the thought might think fometime it faw 16
The carcase of a beauty ipent and done.
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage,
Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.
Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,

15 Which on it had conceited characters, Laund'ring the filken figures in the brine That seasoned woe had pelleted in tears, And often reading what contents it bears ; As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe, In clamours of all size, both high and low. Sometimes her level'd eyes their carriage ride, As they did battery to the spheres intend; Sometimes diverted their poor balls are ty'd To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend 25 Their view right on; anon their To every place at once, and no where fix’d, The mind and sight distractedly commix’d. Her hair, nor loose, nor ty'd in formal plait, Proclaim'd in her a careleis hand of pride ;

30 For forne, untuck'd, descended her Theay'd hat, Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, Though llackly braided in loofe negligence.

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