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(For he'd a way that many judged polite;
A cunning dog, he'd fawn before he'd bite):—
"Observe, my friends, the frailty of our race
When age unmans us—let me state a case:
There's our friend Rupert; we shall soon redress
His present evil—drink to our success—
I flatter not, but did you ever see
Limbs better turn'd? a prettier boy than he?
His senses all acute, his passions such