The PRESUMPTUOUS SINNER;
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A Noble Lord of high renown,
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As he was coursing up and down,
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Through groves and shady vallies green,
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By him an aged man was seen.
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With ax in hand, cleaving of wood,
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Now as he at his labour stood,
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Ah! Adam, Adam, was his tone,
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Still as he labour'd all alone.
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He sigh'd as if his heart would break,
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And said at every heavy stroke,
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Ah! Adam, Adam, was his cries,
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Whilst tears did trickle from his eyes.
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At length behold the noble Peer,
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As he these words did overhear,
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Said, aged man, pray let me know
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Why you do talk of Adam so?
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The old man answer'd him, and said
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The laws of God he disobey'd,
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By eating the forbidden fruit,
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And thus our sins at first took root.
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For if that branch had never been,
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We had been bless'd, and free from sin,
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In that sweet state of innocence,
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But sorrow came by his offence.
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For Adam's fond curiosity,
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It was ordain'd that he should be,
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Opprest by sorrow, grief, and pain,
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Till he return'd to earth again.
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And I, one of poor Adam's heirs,
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Do earn my bread with anxious cares,
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And at his fall I was brought to
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This labour which I now go through.
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Why did he not his wife oppose?
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Why did he with the serpent close?
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Why did he on the apple feed,
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Which did so many sorrows breed?
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The garden was at his command
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The loaded branches kiss'd his hand,
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Which he might pull with pleasure free,
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All but that one forbidden tree.
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The nobleman he then reply'd,
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'Tis true, Adam he turn'd aside
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From God's commands and did the thing
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Which does continual sorrow bring.
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Yet don't reflect upon him so,
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The very same for ought I know,
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Thou might have done to thy disgrace,
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If thou had been in Adam's place.
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No, says he, the command was great,
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Besides that very blessed state
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Of innocence was free from care,
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We should have liv'd and flourish'd there.
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I'd not have touch'd the tree of life,
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For ever a serpent, fiend, or wife;
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Behold there was enough beside.
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If man could have been satisfy'd.
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But farther hear what I say,
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The fruit was beautiful and gay,
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This made him soon consent, when woo'd
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To taste, of the forbidden food.
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Most men are of a longing mind,
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Still as by law they are confin'd,
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For this or that they long the more
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To taste, tho' death stands at the door.
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Right worthy sir, I would have stood
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Upon my guard for future good,
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And none should e'er have wrought on me
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To taste to the forbidden tree.
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All but that very tree alone,
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The Lord hath made all Adam's own,
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Which was enough and eke to spare,
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What could he not that one forbear.
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With that reply'd the noble Lord,
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Thou shall receive a large reward,
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And thou shalt never work again,
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If from one thing thou wilt abstain.
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Thou seem'st to be as poor a Job,
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But I'll give thee a royal robe,
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A chain of gold and palace gay,
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While these orders thou must obey.
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Thou shalt have honours, pomp, and state
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And like the mighty potentate,
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Music shall lull thee to thy rest,
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No heat or cold shall thee molest.
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And every day I will afford
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The best of food to grace thy board,
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Choice dainties forty more or less,
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But one shall be a cover'd mess.
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That shall be brought to thee each day
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Among the rest; then took away
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Still at the ending of the feast,
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Yet thou shan't touch it in the least.
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These Just commands be sure thou keep,
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For if thou ventur'st once to peep
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Under the cover more or less,
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You forfeit all your happiness.
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Said he, my Lord, I do declare,
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From time to time I will forbear,
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Touching that private cover'd mess,
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In any manner more or less.
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Altho' it does before me stand,
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I'll never touch it with my hand.
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Nor in the least be fond to see,
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What is conceal'd and hid from me.
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In all obedience I'll remain,
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You shall not in the least complain;
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I'll never do as Adam did,
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To taste of that which is forbid.
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Then come and follow me, I pray,
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Henceforth old Father come this day,
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Thou shalt not labour, carp, nor care,
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If this one thing thou dost forbear.
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After this noble Lord he goes,
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Who stript him of his Leather Cloaths,
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Then deck'd him like a noble Peer,
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Of many thousand Pounds a year.
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His Coach, his Star, his Chain of gold,
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A sumptuous palace to behold,
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With all things to his heart's content,
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Just for to see the strange event.
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The Lord who had this promis'd made,
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Did cause him strait to be array'd,
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In robes of rich embroider'd gold,
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And sent him Dishes manifold.
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The best that all the Land can yield,
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From Forest, Garden, Park, or Field,
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With Fishes, Fowls, and all that might
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Sweeten his Want and appetite.
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In midst of Joy his Life was led,
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And was with curious dainties fed;
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He wanted neither food nor mirth,
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To make him happy here on earth.
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The Lord allow'd that he should have,
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Whate'er his heart did wish or crave,
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And so he had, but see at last,
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How he did all his glories blast.
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For day by day still as he din'd,
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The cover'd Mess ran in his mind.
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He wants to know what there was hid
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Altho' he knew it was forbid.
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Though he had plenty at his board,
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That court or kingdom could afford,
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Yet this one thing he wants to know,
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Which stood before him cover'd so.
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His fancy to that height was grown,
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That as he feasted all alone,
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Resolv'd he was to satisfy
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His foolish fond curiosity.
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With that he raised up the dish,
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But there was neither flesh nor fish,
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But out there jump'd a living mouse,
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Which ran from him across the House.
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Which he could not again retrieve,
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With that he strait began to grieve,
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As soon as e'er he saw it run,
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He sighing said, I am undone.
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A Fault which makes me blush for shame
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I am as much and more to blame
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Than Adam was, without Dispute
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Who tasted the forbidden fruit.
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Alas! he had no president:
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To warn him of the like event,
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As I have had from time to time,
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Therefore the greater is my crime.
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While thus he did lamenting stand,
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Behold the servants out of hand,
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Were sent to clear the table strait.
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This led to his unhappy fate.
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For having search'd the cover's mess,
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Which he was never to possess,
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And finding that the mouse was fled,
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He to the Noble Lord was led.
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Who then examin'd him and said,
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Wherefore hast thou disobey'd
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My just commands? Come tell me true
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Was I not good and kind to you?
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I heard your groans and piteous cries,
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And saw the tears drop from your eyes,
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When Adam you was please to blame,
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Because thro' him your labour came.
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When you was compassed with Cares,
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As being one of Adam's heirs;
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Who suffer'd by his fatal Fall,
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I took you in and gave you all.
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That e'er your heart could wish or crave
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Nothing but pleasure should you have
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While in the world you did remain,
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If from one thing you would abstain.
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With great presumption you reply'd,
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That my commands should be your guide
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These were the words you spoke,
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Yet now thou hast that promise broke,
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Which has offended me indeed,
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Strip off those Royal Robes with speed,
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And take your Leather coat once more,
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For thou shalt labour as before.
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The poor man said, I must confess,
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'Tis thro' my own Unworthiness,
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That I must with these pleasures part,
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Therefore it is my just desert.
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The Nobleman said prithee go,
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And don't reflect on Adam so,
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As thou hast done, for as I'm true,
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I find a greater fault in you.
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