Hath skill to draw from. Frederick, who is the poet

That I must love for this?

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F.Love for my art

Hath made your ladyship too generous

Towards a most humble workman. ’Tis my own.

D. Ah me! what must it be to be a poet,

And in the abandoned humour that men take with,

To give forth! O ’tis godlike! but the music,—

’Tis that you excel in: it hath a melancholy