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Warn. For that matter, never trouble yourself; I can love as fast as any man, when I am nigh possession; my love falls heavy, and never moves quick till it comes near the centre; he's an ill falconer, that will unhood before the quarry be in sight.
Love's an high-mettled hawk that beats the air, But soon grows weary when the game's not near.
As country vicars, when the sermon's done,