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Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, ease after war, death after life does greatly please.
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Ye tradeful Merchants, that, with weary toil, Do seek most precious things to make your gain,...
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Shepheards delights he dooth them all forsweare, Hys pleasaunt pipe, whych made us meriment,...
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Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.
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What more felicity can fall to creature, than to enjoy delight with liberty.
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