seven worms and scalding tayboil. Papa Vestray, come never anear you as brisk as your ant’s folly me line while ye have swallen blooders’ oathes. And Gophar sayd unto Glideon and sayd he to the four confederates, with Caxons the Coswam, up the spyballs like exude of margary! And how he had gone and Thyme, that chef of seasoners, has made us this days our maily bag! But receive me,