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TO DAMON, by                    
First Line: Cease, damon, cease, I'll hear no more
Last Line: These servile wheedling tricks will ne'er prevail.


Cease, Damon, cease, I'll hear no more;
Your fulsome flattery give o'er;
I scorn this mean fallacious art
By which you'd steal, not win, my heart:
In me it never can compassion move,
And sooner will aversion raise than love.

If you to love would me incline,
Assert the man, forbear to whine;
Let time and plain sincerity
And faithful love your pleaders be;
For trust me, Damon, if those fail,
These servile wheedling tricks will ne'er prevail.





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