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PHILÆNIS.

Why so angry, my Philænis? Wherefore rashly pull your hair?
How is this?—Your drooping eyelids trembling drops of crystal wear!
Surely, you've not seen your lover, faithless to your own sweet charms—
Perjured, infamous deceiver!—clasp a rival in his arms?
Tell me—I've a cure for sorrow—silent?—still with anguish wrung?
'Tis in vain you would dissemble—eyes speak louder than the tongue!

   —Mœcius.

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