John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne & John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
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John Donne
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John Donne
John Donne
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John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
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John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
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John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
John Donne
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John Donne
John Donne
He that cannot choose but love,
And strives against it still,
Never shall my fancy move,
For he loves 'gainst his will;
Nor he which is all his own,
And can at pleasure choose,
When I am caught he can be gone,
And when he list refuse.
Nor he that loves none but fair,
For such by all are sought;
Nor he that can for foul ones care,
For his judgement then is nought;
Nor he that hath wit, for he
Will make me his jest or slave;
Nor a fool, for when others...,
He can neither....;
Nor he that still his Mistress pays,
For she is thralled therefore;
Nor he that pays not, for he says
Within She's worth no more.
Is there then no kind of men
Whom I may freely prove?
I will vent that humour then
In mine own self-love.