My Loue in her Attyre doth shew her witt, It doth so well become her:For eu'ry season she hath dressings fitt, For Winter, Spring, and Summer.No Beautie shee doth misse, When all her Robes are on:But Beauties selfe shee is, When all her Robes are gone.
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Madrigal
written byAnonymous
© Anonymous
