These first induce him the vile trash to try,
Then lend his name, that other men may buy.
This love of life, which in our nature rules,
To vile imposture makes us dupes and tools;
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Then pain compels th' impatient soul to seize
On promised hopes of instantaneous ease;
And weakness too with every wish complies,
Worn out and won by importunities.
Troubled with something in your bile or blood,