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So shall | I live,| suppos|ing thou | art true,
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Like a de|ceived | husband,| so love's face,
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May still | seem^love | to me,| though alt|ered
new:
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Thy looks | with me,| thy heart | in oth|er
place.
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For there | can live | no hat|red in | thine^eye,
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Therefore | in that | I can|not know | thy
change.
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In ma|ny's looks,| the false heart's hist|ory
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Is writ | in moods | and frowns | and wrink|les
strange.
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But heaven | in thy | creat|ion did | decree,
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That in | thy face | sweet^love | should ev|er dwell;
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Whatere | thy thoughts,| or thy heart's
work|ings be,
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Thy looks | should noth|ing thence,| but
sweet|ness tell.
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How like | Eve's apple doth | thy beaut|y grow,
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If thy sweet vir|tue ans|wer not | thy show.