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When my loue ſweares that ſhe is made of truth,
I do beleeue her though I know ſhe lyes,
That ſhe might thinke me ſome vntuterd youth,
Vnlearned in the worlds falſe ſubtilties.
Thus vainely thinking that ſhe thinkes me young,
Although ſhe knowes my dayes are paſt the
beſt,
Simply I credit her falſe ſpeaking tongue,
On both ſides thus is ſimple truth
ſuppreſt :
But wherefore ſayes ſhe not ſhe is
vniuſt?
And wherefore ſay not I that I am old?
O loues beſt habit is in ſeeming truſt,
And age in loue,loues not t’haue yeares told.
Therefore I lye with her,and ſhe
with me,
And in our faults by lyes we flattered be.
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