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How sweet | and love|ly dost | thou make | the
shame
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Which like | a cank|er in | the frag|rant rose,
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Doth^spot | the beaut|y of | thy bud|ding name?
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Oh^in | what sweets | dost^thou | thy sins |
enclose.
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That tongue | that tells | the sto|ry of | thy
days,
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(Making | lasciv|ious com|ments on | thy sport)
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Cannot | dispraise,| but in | a kind | of praise,
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Naming | thy name,| blesses | an ill | report.
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Oh what | a man|sion have | those vic|es got,
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Which for their | habi|tation | chose out thee,
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Where beaut|y's veil | doth^cov|er eve|ry blot
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And all | things turns to fair | that eyes |
can see.
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Take^heed |(dear* heart)| of this large
priv|ilege;
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The hard|est knife | ill^used | doth^lose | his
edge.