What though thy riches ask as high a fortune, And with thy birth doth bear an equal sway? O, were that all, I know I might importune A little help, for riches will decay. Even as thy wealth, so will thy beauty fade, And then thou wilt repent thee of my wrong; A secret sorrow shall thy breast invade, Thy heart shall be as faulty as thy tongue: They both shall vex, and this shall be the trial, One gave consent, the other gave denial.
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