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141
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note,
But ‘tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleas’d to
dote;
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone;
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway’d the likeness of
a man,
Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain;
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
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