Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there
    And made myself a motley to the view,
    Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
    Made old offences of affections new;
    Most true it is that I have look’d on truth
    Askance and strangely: but, by all above,
    These blenches gave my heart another youth,
    And worse essays proved thee my best of love.
    Now all is done, have what shall have no end:
    Mine appetite I never more will grind
    On newer proof, to try an older friend,
    A god in love, to whom I am confined.
    Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
    Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.

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