f many a beauty so fair,
My lady, thou art fairer.
Of them a lady I hold so dear,
Thou to me, art far dearer.
Each time into thine eyes I look,
Passions rob me of speech.
O how would I ever bring to book
This which I cannot impeach?!
If this beauty were all thou art,
Then cursed would be my passions;
But far...
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