In-Text |
and from the armes of her lovers into a bed of sorrow, shee hath now paine for her pleasure and sorrow for her jollitie, who knoweth but this may be my day and thy day, and every particular mans day. |
and from the arms of her lovers into a Bed of sorrow, she hath now pain for her pleasure and sorrow for her jollity, who Knoweth but this may be my day and thy day, and every particular men day. |
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