Most worthy comfort, now my greatest griefe,
Thou best of deerest, and mine onely care,
Art left the prey of euery vulgar theefe.
Thee haue I not lockt vp in any chest,
Saue where thou art not though I feele thou art,
Within the gentle closure of my brest,
From whence at pleasure thou maist come and part,
  And euen thence thou wilt be stolne I feare,
  For truth prooues theeuish for a prize so deare.

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