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Your love | and pi|ty doth | the impress|ion
fill,
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Which vul|gar scand|al stamped | upon | my brow;
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For what | care^I | who calls | me well | or ill,
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So you | ore-green | my bad,| my good | allow?
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You are | my all | the world,| and I | must^strive
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To know | my shames | and prais|es from | your*
tongue;
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None^else | to me,| nor I | to none | alive,
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That my / steeled sense | or chang|es right | or
wrong.
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In so | profound | abysm | I throw | all* care
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Of oth|ers' voi|ces, that | my ad|der's sense
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To crit|ic and | to flat|terer stop|ped are.
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Mark^how | with my | neglect | I do | dispense:
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You are | so strong|ly in | my pur|pose bred,
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That all | the world | besides | me thinks |
you're dead.