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First Line: By heaven I'le tell her boldly that 'tis shee
Last Line: T' an undeserving beggar, then a thiefe.


BY Heaven I'le tell her boldly that 'tis Shee;
Why should She asham'd or angry be,
To be belov'd by Mee?
The Gods may give their Altars o're;
They'l smoak but seldome any more,
If none but Happy Men must them adore.


The Lightning which tall Oakes oppose in vain,
To strike sometimes does not disdain
The humble Furzes of the Plain.
She being so high, and I so low,
Her power by this does greater show,
Who at such distance gives so sure a blow.


Compar'd with her all things so worthlesse prove,
That nought on earth can towards her move,
'Till't be exalted by her Love.
Equall to her, alas, ther's none;
She like a Deity is growne;
That must Create, or else must be alone.


If there be man, who thinks himselfe so high,
As to pretend equality,
He deserves her lesse then I;
For he would cheat for his reliefe;
And one would give with lesser grief,
T' an undeserving Beggar, then a Thiefe.

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