| Chorus |
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| O how came Love, that is himself a fire |
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| This motion was of love begot |
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| Have men beheld the graces dance |
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| Give end unto thy pastimes, Love |
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| Hum drum, sauce for a cony |
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| Nor do you think that their legs is all |
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| Ballad - |
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| Which way and whence the lightning flew |
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| Come forth, come forth, the gentle Spring |
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