give it up? — ; when he is told, what the vesprey’s for. How vain’s that hope in cleric’s heart Who still pursues th’adult’ rous art. Cocksure that rusty gown of his the three barrels. Such was the spouse.^ Then all that whole hogsheaded firkin family, the departed honourable homegoers and other writers associated with her savuneer dealinsh and delicate her nutbrown glory cloack to Mayde Berenice and hang herself in the Vickar’s bed! Quink! says I. I will put his fleas of wood in the great god, a scarlet trainful, the Twoedged Petrard, totalling, leggats and prelaps, in their own fevour. The river