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Ayton, Robert: Forsaken of all comforts but these two
Sir Robert Ayton
1569 - 1638

Forsaken of all comforts but these two,
My faggott and my pipe, I sitt and muse
On all my crosses and almost accuse
The heavens for dealing with me as they doe.
Then hope steps in and, with a smyling brow,
Such chearfull expectations doth infuse
As make me think ere long I cannot chuse
But be some Grandie, whatsoever I'm now.
But having spent my pype, I then perceive
That hopes and dreames are couzens, both deceive.
Then make I this conclusion in my minde,
Its all one thing, both tends unto one scope
To live upon tobacco and on hope,
The ones but smoake, the other is but winde.

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