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Give me a morsel on the greensward rather,
Coarse as you will the cooking-Let the fresh spring
Bubble beside my napkin-and the free birds
Twittering and chirping, hop from bough to bough,
To claim the crumbs I leave for perquisites-
Your prison feasts I like not.
THE WOODSMAN, A DRAMA.
A recess in the vestibule was enlightened