Upon His Mistress' Sickness, and His Own Health
In health and ease am I;
Yet, as I senseless were, it nought contents me.
You sick in pain do lie;
And ah, your pain exceedingly torments me.
Whereof I can this only reason give,
That dead unto myself, in you I live.
Yet, as I senseless were, it nought contents me.
You sick in pain do lie;
And ah, your pain exceedingly torments me.
Whereof I can this only reason give,
That dead unto myself, in you I live.
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