Thou spring'st a leak already in thy crown, / A flaw is in thy ill-bak'd vessel found; / 'Tis hollow, and returns a jarring sound, / Yet thy moist clay is pliant to command, / Unwrought, and easy to the potter's hand: / Now take the mould; / now bend thy mind to feel / The first sharp motions of the forming wheel.
-John Dryden
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