English Satires
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Chapter 92 92

As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate

Ne'er to be enter'd more by him or Sin,

With such a glance of supernatural hate,

As made St. Peter wish himself within:

He patter'd with his keys at a great rate,

And sweated through his apostolic skin:

Of course his perspiration was but ichor,

Or some such other spiritual liquor.

            
            

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