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An Acrostic then fills up a page,
An Epigram pithy and true,
The wisdom that dwells in the sage,
And things that make candles burn blue.
The Stoic may here learn to smile
And man become stoic to care
The dandy may learn a new style,
Nor Bachelors ever despair.
This thus that this book is made out,
“A medley” ”we call it” in rhyme,
Tis something like one with the gout,
That hobbles and culls the sublime.
And ye who have patience to read,
Pray read if you can with a grace,
Don’t hurry like Pat with his steed,
When backward had mounted his face.
Nor like him maliciously chide,
'When pony with hind foot in stirrup,
As Pat thought was mounting to ride, 
When all would have done with a cheer-up.

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