In-Text |
for love to its proper object, is strong, and never at rest, till it does transire in amatum; the drawing out of those lines of Perfection upon her, was not trusted to the pencil of Apelles, or the curious finger of any Mortal, |
for love to its proper Object, is strong, and never At rest, till it does transire in amatum; the drawing out of those lines of Perfection upon her, was not trusted to the pencil of Apelles, or the curious finger of any Mortal, |
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