Filthy harlots - the Lord's grape!
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With lore ornamented entreating;
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Hollow hearted, heart-departed -
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Yet thou reapest the blooming rose -
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When 'tis the weed which is to be swath'd
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I do, in the blooming flower, pleasure
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find!
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And me in the yesterday's bind?!
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Innocence is reserved for the meek:
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Of naught is my grasp ne'er to be!
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Hah! - for thee even a hound holdeth the throne.
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Unwanted child of mother! - Plague of plagues!
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Father of leprous children.
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I wield ye to stint this brawl!
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Nigh is the ford - yet harken! - do not thwart!
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Desirest thou to do it withal,
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I shall cause thy body by one head too short!
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Sayest ye nay to my boon;
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Then wilt thou from bloodshed swoon!
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Err me not! - Must ye bethink my foolhardiness!
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Be vanished! - Be banished! -
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If ye deemest me not wroth.
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My hand hieth to unsheathe the sword
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Lest thou dost totter -
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Whid along! - Wherefore irk my haughtiness?
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No man... No man at all!,
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Wherefore bereave
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Be it lord or beggar
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The kine of the sward?
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Bereaveth my dignity!
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Wherefore holdest thou for
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Me such a quality scowl?
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Loom my darling sun -
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Bear the scarlet colour!
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-----------------
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Hollow-Hearted, Heart-Departed
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Theatre Of Tragedy |