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This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch, (359)

And with his knee the door he opens wide. (360)

The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch: (361)

Thus treason works ere traitors be espied. (362)

Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside;
But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing, (364)

Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting.

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