Go,
and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root, Tell
me, where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil’s foot, Teach
me to hear mermaids singing, Or
to keep off envy’s stinging, And find What wind Serves
to advance an honest mind. If
thou be’est born to strange sights, Things invisible to see, Ride
ten thousand days and nights, Till age snow white hairs on
thee, Thou,
when thou return’st, wilt tell me All
strange wonders that befell thee, And swear No where Lives
a woman true, and fair. If
thou find’st one, let me know, Such a pilgrimage were sweet; Yet
do not, I would not go, Though at next door we might
meet, Though
she were true, when you met her, And
last, till you write your letter, Yet she Will be False, ere I come, to two, or three. |
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