To My Inconstant Mistris

Thomas Carew

1595 to 1640

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Then curse thine owne inconstancy.
And to my soul, a soul more pure
A fayrer hand than thine, shall cure
Which my strong faith shall purchase me,
And both with equall glory crown’d.
Than thine, shall by Loves hand be bound,
When all thy teares shall be as vain
As mine were then, for thou shalt bee
That heart, which thy false oathes did wound;
To Love, as I did once to thee;
The full reward, and glorious fate,
Then shalt thou weepe, entreat, complain
From all the joyes of love, shalt see
When thou, poore excommunicate
Damn’d for thy false Apostasie.

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