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96. On the Hypocrite.
Hee's like a Christmas Candle, whose good nameCrowns his faire actions with a glorious flame;
Burnes cleare and bright, and leaves no ground for doubt
To question, but he stincks at going out;
When Death puffs out his Flame, the snuff will tell
If he were Wax, or Tallow, by the smell.
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