Rue
From Love’s Victory by Lady Mary Wroth
chosen by Nalee
Lord, how one may conjecture if one feare,
All things they doubt to bee the same they feare,
Though privatt must itt follow hee’s untrue
Or that they whisper’d must bee kept from you.
Fy, leave thes follys, and begin to think
You have your love brought to death’s river brink
Repent, you have him wrong’d, and now cherish
The dying lad, who els soone will perish.
Go, ask him pardon.
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