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Such scribb’ling Authors have been seen before,
Mustapha, the Island Princess, Forty more,
Were things, perhaps, compos’d in Half an Hour.
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I’ve no Ambition on that idle Score,
But say with Betty Morris heretofore,
When a Court Lady call’d her Buckhurst’s Whore:
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Should I be troubled when the purblind Knight,
Who squints more in his Judgment, than his Sight,
Picks silly Faults, and censures what I write?