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So comes a reckoning when the banquet's o'er,- The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more.
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No retreat. No retreat. They must conquer or die who've no retreat.
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What then in love can woman do? If we grow fond they shun us. And when we fly them, they pursue: But leave us when they've won us.
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Before the Barn-Door crowing, The Cock by Hens attended, His Eyes around him throwing, Stands for a while suspended: Then One he singles from the Crew, And cheers the happy Hen; With how do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again.
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You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death; I always leave those Affairs to you. Women indeed are bitter bad Judges in these cases, for they are so partial to the Brave that they think every Man handsome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows.
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In every age and clime we seeTwo of a trade can never agree.
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We only part to meet again.
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But his kiss was so sweet, and so closely he pressed, that I languished and pined till I granted the rest.
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While there is life there 's hope, he cried.
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Lest men suspect your tale untrue,Keep probability in view.
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I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
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That raven on yon left-hand oak(Curse on his ill-betiding croak!)Bodes me no good.
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Love, then, hath every bliss in store; 'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more. Each other every wish they give; Not to know love is not to live.
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Life is a jest; and all things show it. I thought so once; and now I know it.
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And when a lady's in the case,You know all other things give place.
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The charge is prepared; the lawyers are met; The judges all ranged (a terrible show!) I go, undismay'd.—For death is a debt, A debt on demand.—So take what I owe.
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Is there no hope? the sick man said;The silent doctor shook his head.
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How happy could I be with either, Were t' other dear charmer away!
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Follow love and it will flee, flee love and it will follow thee.
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The brave love mercy, and delight to save.