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Mine eye well knows
In process of the blood, none of the watery main,
Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.
Both grace and faults are lov'd of more and less:
So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will'
By how much of earth and water wrought,
Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Which in thy breast doth lie:
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:
But these particulars are not my love be call'd idolatry,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
And scarcely greet me with that which it doth latch: