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Blot out all memory of that in me, which scars or mars the page of friendship true; But leave, I beg, the mark of constancy, that I may have and hold a friend like you. |
| Hall. |
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Blot out all memory of that in me, which scars or mars the page of friendship true; But leave, I beg, the mark of constancy, that I may have and hold a friend like you. |
| Hall. |