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Rh And the Scripture says:

For well you know:

Disease, and poverty, and pain, With woe that prison brings amain, Are all the fruit of one sole tree, Our own, our past iniquity.

Abandon, therefore, thoughts of hate Deriving from my captive state; On virtue set your heart; and pay This man such honor as you may." On listening to his darling, who Seemed virtue-woven through and through, An unknown courage fired the dove; He gave the fowler words of love.

A hearty welcome, sir, to you; What for your service may I do? No more let anxious fancies roam, For here with me you are at home."

In answer to his kindly words Replied the murderer of birds: Well, dove, the cold is in me still; Give me a remedy for chill."