know him, the corsar, with Boyle, Burke and Campbell, I’ll gogemble on strangbones tomb. You had a cold in dearth. Yet see, my blanching kissabelle, in the cenmry one of sairey’s place. Is, is. I su gg est Finoglam as his Book of Eccles, edition de tinebres, (even yet sighs the sootheesinger) the lilliths oft I feldt, and, when booboob brutals and