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others love and praise my verses, still Thy long black thumb-nail marks them out for ill: A fellon take it, or some whitflaw come For to unslate or to untile that thumb! But cry thee mercy: exercise thy nails To scratch or claw, so that thy tongue not rails: Some numbers prurient are, and some of these Are wanton with their itch; scratch, and 'twill please.

Fellon, a sore, especially in the finger.

Whitflaw, or whitlow.

thee oft what poets thou hast read, And lik'st the best. Still thou reply'st: The dead. I shall, ere long, with green turfs cover'd be; Then sure thou'lt like or thou wilt envy me.

azure robe I did behold As airy as the leaves of gold, Which, erring here, and wandering there, Pleas'd with transgression ev'rywhere: Sometimes 'twould pant, and sigh, and heave, As if to stir it scarce had leave: But, having got it, thereupon 'Twould make a brave expansion. And pounc'd with stars it showed to me

Pounc'd, sprinkled.