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Doris glowed to make me blest!

And for desert my best things swallow'd,Soon as his meal was o'er, what follow'd?Led by the Deuce, to a neighbour he went,And talk'd of my food to his heart's content:"The soup might surely have had more spice,The meat was ill-brown'd, and the wine wasn't nice."A thousand curses alight on his head!'Tis a critic, I vow! Let the dog be struck dead!