`Sulpicia ad Cerinthum.`--Lib. iv. Cruel Cerinthus! does the fell disease Which racks my breast your fickle bosom please? Alas! I wish`d but to o`ercome the pain, That I might live for love and you again; But now I scarcely shall bewail my fate: By death alone I can avoid your hateSourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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