They made their good-byes.

We drank martinis, while she gazed into my eyes and talked of Dolores – in tones of the utmost loathing – and of you, in tones of the utmost self-importance.

[G]ive him a broad ſide my brave boyes with your Pikes, branch me his ſkin in Flovvers like a Sattin, and betvveene ever Flovver a mortall cut, your Royalty ſhall ravell, […]

the cognizor acknowledges the right to be in the cognizee