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1 I am not of those miserable males 2 Who sniff at vice and, daring not to snap, 3 Do therefore hope for heaven. I take the hap 4 Of all my deeds. The wind that fills my sails 5 Propels; but I am helmsman. Am I wrecked, 6 I know the devil has sufficient weight 7 To bear: I lay it not on him, or fate. 8 Besides, he's damned. That man I do suspect 9 A coward, who would burden the poor deuce 10 With what ensues from his own slipperiness. 11 I have just found a wanton-scented tress 12 In an old desk, dusty for lack of use. 13 Of days and nights it is demonstrative, 14 That, like some aged star, gleam luridly. 15 If for those times I must ask charity, 16 Have I not any charity to give?
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