The Rape of the Lock. A mock-heroic poem. Canto I • Paragraph 113
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He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence; She like a wearied lamb lies panting there; He scowls, and hates himself for his offence; She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear. He faintly flies, sweating with guilty fear; She stays, exclaiming on the direful night; He runs, and chides his vanished, loathed delight.