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Here, here I live, And somewhat give Of what I have To those who crave, Little or much, My alms is such; But if my deal Of oil and meal Shall fuller grow, More I'll bestow; Meantime be it E'en but a bit, Or else a crumb, The scrip hath some. Deal, portion.

Come, leave this loathed country life, and then Grow up to be a Roman citizen. Those mites of time, which yet remain unspent, Waste thou in that most civil government. Get their comportment and the gliding tongue Of those mild men thou art to live among; Then, being seated in that smoother sphere, Decree thy everlasting topic there; And to the farm-house ne'er return at all: Though granges do not love thee, cities shall.