Thomas Nashe

1567-1601 / English

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In Time Of PestilenceAdieu, farewell earth’s bliss! / This world uncertain is: / Fond are life’s lustful joys,

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SpringSpring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king; / Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, / Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing—

13

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