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His Wildness
O bid me mount and sail up there
Amid the cloudy wrack1，
For Peg2 and Meg and Paris love
That had so straight a back，
Are gone away， and some that stay
Have changed their silk for sack.
Were I but there and none to hear
Id have a peacock cry，
For that is natural to a man
That lives in memory，
Being all alone Id nurse a stone
And sing it lullaby.
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