I dropped in on the surgery as I was passing to show the doctor my hemorrhoids.
This dreame of mine / Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther, / But milke my Ewes, and weepe.
Odd's bodikin, man, better: use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?
Their swarthy Hosts wou'd darken all our Plains, / Doubling the native Horror of the War, / And making Death more grim.
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