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Keepe On Your Maske And Hide Your Eye

 Keepe on your maske, and hide your eye,
For with beholding you I dye:
Your fatall beauty, Gorgon-like,
Dead with astonishment will strike;
Your piercing eyes if them I see
Are worse than basilisks to mee.
Shutt from mine eyes those hills of snowe, Their melting valleys doe not showe; Their azure paths lead to dispaire, O vex me not, forbeare, forbeare; For while I thus in torments dwell The sight of heaven is worse than hell.
Your dayntie voyce and warbling breath Sound like a sentence pass'd for death; Your dangling tresses are become Like instruments of finall doome.
O if an Angell torture so, When life is done where shall I goe?

by William Strode
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