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I.
Depose your finger of that ring,
And crowne mine
with't awhile;
Now I restor't. Pray, dos it bring
Back with it more of soile?
Or shines it not as
innocent,
As honest, as before 'twas lent?
II.
So then inrich me with that treasure,
'Twill but increase your store,
And please me (faire
one) with that pleasure
Must please you still the
more.
Not to save others is a curse
The
blackest, when y'are ne're the worse.
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