44
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PHILODEMOS 44 I want no more white violets and lyre-song, no more Chian wines and Syrian myrrh, no more carousmg and drunken whoresI hate them all, they're driving me mad. But wreathe me in narcissus and let me taste the cross flute, rub me down with saffron balm, moisten my tongue with wine from Mytilene and wed me to a hearth-and-home girl. 58 ...
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