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 Rochester [laughing.]What wealth of rhymes in ite! I' faith! this fellow's an original Much more diverting than Lord Ormond is! Carr [indignantly.]Like Satan, thou didst to the mountain-top Conduct me, and thy tongue did say to me: "Newly thou art come forth from rigid fasting; "Art thou athirst? the whole world's at thy feet." Rochester.I simply offered you a cup of wine. Carr.And I gave ear to him as if he were A heavenly spirit! To his lying words My soul did ope, as to the dew from heaven Doth Sharon's lily. He a ghastly sore Doth show, and not the treasures undefiled Of a pure heart! Rochester. My quatrain! that, a sore! Carr [with increasing excitement. A frightful, bleeding sore, wherein one sees Episcopacy, popery and schism, And love and lust! an ulcer past all cure, Where Moloch-Cupid doth with Ashtoreth Discharge his ordure! Rochester.  Pardon, my good sir, Egeria it is, not Ashtoreth. Carr.Thy mouth spits venom wherewithal my soul Polluted is. Away, all ye who do Iniquity and fornication—go! My bones you wither even to their marrow! Nathless the saints will triumph! Your curst race Will never bend them like the slender reed; And when the mighty waters burst their banks They will not reach their feet! Rochester. Thou dotest, sirrah