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Come my Celia by Ben Jonson

Come, my Celia, let us prove

While we may, the sports of love;

Time will not be ours forever;

He at length our good will sever.

Spend not then his gifts in vain.

Suns that set may rise again;

But if once we lose this light,

‘Tis with us perpetual night.

Why should we defer our joys?

Fame and rumor are but toys.

Cannot we delude the eyes

Of a few poor household spies,

Or his easier ears beguile,

So removed by our wile?

‘Tis no sin love’s fruit to steal;

But the sweet theft to reveal.

To be taken, to be seen,

These have crimes accounted been.

….. The End …..

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