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Thou art mine, and I am thine,
Hand and heart I do resign.
Once I was a wounded lover,
Now these fears are fairly over;
By receiving what I gave,
Thou art lord of what I have.
Beauty, honour, love, and treasuro,
A rich golden stream of pleasure,
With his lady ho enjoys;
Thanks to Cupid's kind decoys.
Now he's cloth'd in rich attire,
Not inferior to a squire,
Beauty, honour, riches, store,
What can man desire more.
