Saturday evening, to take them to the Opera,) could see，
Howbeit, I know I waste my words--begone,
And leave me here; whate'er may be my lot,
He lives not ill who lives withal content.
Which loses in this parley, I o'erthrown
By thee, or thou who overthrow'st thyself?
I shall be well contented if thy suit
Fails with these strangers, as it has with me.
Unhappy man, will years ne'er make thee wise?
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