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  • Come, let me sing into your ear;
    Those dancing days are gone,
    All that silk and satin gear;
    Crouch upon a stone,
    Wrapping that foul body up
    In as foul a rag:
    I carry the sun in a golden cup.
    The moon in a silver bag.

    Curse as you may I sing it through;
    What matter if the knave
    That the m ...

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