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Those Eyes, tho’weeping, can no Pity move;
'Tis pity, Sighs from such a Breast should part,
A LETTER from Sea.
Airest, if Time and Absence can incline
may it do with you, but straight return;
Grieving yet more, when he reflects that you
RAVE Fops my Envy now beget,
Who did my Pity move; They by the right of wanting Wit,
Are free from Cares of Love.
Turks honour Fools, because they are
By that Defect secure
Which all the rest endure.
So I, who suffer cold Neglect
And Wounds from CELIA's Eyes, Begin extremely to respect
Thesc Fools that seem so wise,