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Even though you say you speak of the truth
If you are a liar this is uncouth
For beneath you have hid the hidden youth
Until outward the pain of thither root
Unto me the pain do you hither shoot
As if this pain were to come of this brute
To making of this friendship but minute
Last that you see me do you a favor
Our own friendship will but only quaver
Bitterness will be but my own savior
If you can see the grievance in my eye
And yet have the heart to make this hate fly
Then beneath this false truth true hate does lie.