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LII. So
am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to
his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not
every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of
seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and
so rare, Since, seldom coming, in the long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or
captain jewels in the carcanet. So is the time that
keeps you as my chest, Or as the wardrobe which the
robe doth hide, To make some special instant special
blest, By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.
Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, Being
had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope.
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