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Thomas Campion

The Fovrth Booke of Ayres


IIII. Vayle loue mine eyes

       1 Vaile loue mine eyes, O hide from me
       The plagues that charge the curious minde :
       If beauty priuate will not be,
       Suffice it yet that she proues kinde.
           Who can vsurp heau'ns light alone ?
           Stars were not made to shine on one.

       2 Griefes past recure fooles try to heale,
       That greater harmes on lesse inflict :
       The pure offend by too much zeale,
       Affection should not be too strict.
           Hee that a true embrace will finde,
           To beauties faults must still be blinde.



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