最終更新日:2022/12/24
To you, the Iust pretenders to the Bays; The Poet humbly thus a Reverence pays And you, the Contraries, that hate the Pains Of Labour’d Sense, or of Improving Brains: That feel the Lashes in a well-writ Play, He bids perk up and smile, the Satyr sleeps to Day.
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