The Passionate Pilgrim

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Act I, Scene 10


  • Shakespeare. Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded,
    Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
    Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded!
    Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting! 135
    Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,
    And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.
  • Shakespeare. I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
    For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will:
    And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave; 140
    For why I craved nothing of thee still:
    O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee,
    Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

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