Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, and count all the rumors of stearn old
men at a penny's fee. Suns can set and rise again: we when once our brief light
has set must sleep through a perpetual night. Give me a thousand kisses, and
then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred, then another
thousand without resting, then a hundred. Then, when we have made many
thousands, we will confuse the count lest we know the numbering, so that no one
can cast an evil eye on us through knowing the number of our kisses.
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