Michael Drayton quotes

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Fair stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
Upon Saint Crispin's day
Fought was this noble fray,
No far-fetched sigh shall ever wound my breast,
Love from mine eye a tear shall never wring,
Or if no thing but death will serve thy turn,
Still thirsting for subversion of my state,
Dear, why should you command me to my rest,
When now the night doth summon all to sleep?
Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.
An evil spirit, your beauty, haunts me still,
Wherewith, alas! I have been long possessed,
To nothing fitter can I thee compare
Than to the son of some rich pennyfather,
But you broke into heaven's immortal store,
Where virtue, honor, wit, and beauty lay;
Thus am I still provoked to every evil
By this good wicked spirit, sweet angel devil.
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