At length the morn and cold indifference came. - Nicholas Rowe

Additional quotes by Nicholas Rowe

Is she not more than painting can express,
Or youthful poets fancy when they love?

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Is this that haughty gallant, gay Lothario?

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And one false step entirely damns her fame.
In vain with tears the loss she may deplore,
In vain look back on what she was before;
She sets like stars that fall, to rise no more.

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