In La Mancha he mopeth, With beard thin and dusty; He doteth and mopeth In library fusty -- 'Mong his old folios gropeth: Cites obsolete saws Of chivalry's laws -- Be the wronged one's knight: Die, but do right. So he rusts and musts, While each grocer green Thriveth apace with the fulsome face Of a fool serene.
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