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Oh, I am frighten'd with most hateful thoughts! Perhaps her voice is not a nightingale's, Perhaps her teeth are not the fairest pearl; Her eye-lashes may be, for aught I know, Not longer than the May-fly's small fan-horns; There may not be one dimple on her hand; And freckles many; ah! a careless nurse, In haste to teach the little thing to walk, May have crumpt up a pair of Dian's legs, And warpt the ivory of a Juno's neck. |