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            from 
            Pamphilia to Amphilanthus 
by Lady Mary Wroth 
              
             
            SONNET 42
             
IF ever love had force in humane
brest,  
If ever he could move in pensive heart:  
Or if that he such powre could but impart,  
To breed those flames, whose heat brings ioys unrest.  
             
Then looke on me; I am to these adrest,  
I am the soule that feeles the greatest smart:  
I am that heartlesse Trunck of hearts depart;  
And I that One, by love, and griefe opprest.  
             
None ever felt the truth of loves great misse  
Of eyes till I deprived was of blisse;  
For had he seene, he must have pitty show'd.  
             
I should not have beene made this Stage of woe,  
Where sad Disasters haue their open show:  
O no, more pitty he had sure bestow'd. 
             
             
            
  
            Source: 
            British Women Writers. Dale Spender and Janet Todd,
Eds. 
New York: Peter Bedrick Books, 1989.  15. 
             
            
  
             
             
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