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The Emulation
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Say, Tyrant Custom, why must we obey The impositions of thy haughty Sway; From the first dawn of Life, unto the Grave, Poor Womankind's in every State, a Slave. The Nurse, the Mistress, Parent and the Swain, For Love she must, there's none escape that Pain; Then comes the last, the fatal Slavery, The Husband with insulting Tyranny Can have ill Manners justify'd by Law;
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