I do so, and sadly withdraw. Yet this very man all his household and all his neighbors see to be foul within, though fair without, under his comely skin. For the wolf is wary and dreads the pit, the hawk the suspected snare, the pike the covered hook. For when from a thousand bushels of beans you steal one, my loss in that case is less, but not your sin. A man has lost his weapons, has quitted his post with Virtue, who is ever busied and lost in making money.
Death is the line that marks the end of all.
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