If Love be blind, how hath he then the sight, With beauty's beams my careless heart to wound? Or, if a boy, how hath he then the might, The mightiest conquerors to bring to ground,? O no, he is not blind, but I that lead My thoughts the ways that bring to restless fears, Nor yet a boy, but I, that live in dread, Mixed with hope, and seek for joy in tears.
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