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In this fool's paradise he drank delight.
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To sigh, yet not recede; to grieve, yet not repent.
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Time has touched me gently in his race,And left no odious furrows in my face.
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Oh, rather give me commentators plain,Who with no deep researches vex the brain;Who from the dark and doubtful love to run,And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.
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The murmuring poor, who will not fast in peace.
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Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.
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In idle wishes fools supinely stay;Be there a will, and wisdom finds a way.
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He tried the luxury of doing good.
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Books cannot always please, however good;Minds are not ever craving for their food.
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Our farmers round, well pleased with constant gain,Like other farmers, flourish and complain.
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Cut and come again.
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Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd;Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd;The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd,And ease of heart her every look convey'd.
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A master passion is the love of news.
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'T was good advice, and meant, my son, Be good.
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And took for truth the test of ridicule.
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Secrets with girls, like loaded guns with boys,Are never valued till they make a noise.
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Habit with him was all the test of truth,It must be right: I’ve done it from my youth.
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Where Plenty smiles - alas! she smiles for few,And those who taste not, yet behold her store,Are as the slaves that dig the golden ore,The wealth around them makes them doubly poor.
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Who calls a lawyer rogue, may find, too lateUpon one of these depends his whole estate.
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But 'twas a maxim he had often tried,That right was right, and there he would abide.