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"You are no good, inclined to drunkenness and routs
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and final disgraceful robbery of the fruits of my 'umble labors
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in the haberdashery.
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Oh, Son.
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Did you not ever go on your knees
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and pray for deliverance from all your sins and scoundrel's acts?
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Lost boy, depart.
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Do not haunt my soul.
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I have done well forgetting you.
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Reopen no old wounds.
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Be as if you had never returned and looked in to me
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to see my laboring humilities,