Some take them for Damascen plums, or rather for Bullois, Skegs, or such like wilde Plums.
And then the long, bitter sound of the cursed beep. This is the part where I'm supposed to leave yet another stalkerlike message...
The dear good angel of the Spring, / The nightingale.
My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.'
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