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50 But thinks the world without like that within; Such melting tendernes, o fond to bles, Her charity almot becomes exces. Wealth may be courted, widom be rever'd, And beauty prai'd, and brutal trength be fear'd; But goodnes only can affection move; And love must owe its origin to love.

Illam quicquid agit, quoquo vetigia flectit, Componit furtim, ubequiturque decor.

F gentle manners, and of tate refin'd, With all the graces of a polih'd mind. Clear ene and truth till hone in all he poke, And