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Those in the deeper vitals rage:
Lo, Poverty, to fill the band,
That numbs the foul with icy hand,
And low-consuming Age.
To each bis fuff'rings: all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan ;
The tender for another's pain,
Th’unfeeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
A D V Ε R S Ι Τ Υ.
ÆSCHYLUS, in Agamemnone,