Sonnet XLVIII
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How careful was I, when I took my way, | 1
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, | 2
That to my use it might unused stay | 3
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! | 4
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, | 5
Most worthy of comfort, now my greatest grief, | 6
Thou, best of dearest and mine only care, | 7
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. | 8
Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, | 9
Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, | 10
Within the gentle closure of my breast, | 11
From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part; | 12
And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear, | 13
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. | 14
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