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Will spurs me on, Love wounds me with his dart, Pleasure does draw me, Custom pulls me too, Hope flatters, that I should my ends pursue, And lends her right hand to my fainting heart. My wretched heart accepts, nor yet espies The weakness of my blind disloyal guide, My Pa**ions rule, long since my Reason died, And from one fond Desire, still others rise. Virtue and Wealth, Beauty and Graceful Mien, Sweet Words, and Person fair as e'er was seen, Were the allurements drew me to her net: 'Twas Thirteen hundred twenty sev'n, the year, April the sixth, this Nymph did first appear, And tied me so, I ne'er shall Freedom get.