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3. To the Stranger.
Thou that wert so unhappy first to breathWithout the compasse of great Britaines power
And blest againe that Fate did thee bequeath,
The knowledge of so rich a tongue as our;
If (understanding) thou dost hap to read
This Booke, wherein thou secst my Nations shame,
Yet doe not thou against my Countrey plead;
For thine (thou know'st) doth merit greater blame:
Our faults are many, this indeed is true;
But were they moe; we are no worse than you.
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