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Book, page 11 / 81 Is that a way to treat one's stiddy? What mean those marks upon thee, girl? Those prints of brutal osculation? Great grief! that lowlife and that churl! That Telephus abomination! Can him, O votary of Venus, Else everything is off between us. O triply beatific those Whose state is classified as married, Untroubled by the green-eyed woes, By such upheavals never harried. Ay, three times happy are the wed ones, Who cleave together till they're dead ones. To Be Quite Frank IN CHLORIN Horace: Book III, Ode 15. "_Uxor pauperis Ibyci_--" Your conduct, naughty Chloris, is Not just exactly Horace's Ideal of a lady At the shady Time of life; You mustn't throw your soul away On foolishness, like Pholoe-- Her days are folly-laden-- She's a maiden, You're a wife. Your daughter, with propriety, May look for male society,
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