bog which puckerooed the posy. The inebranch of Heremonheber on Bregia’s plane where Teffia lies is leaved invert and fructed proper but the rotten fruit of my coataways, constantonoble’s aim: and, fortiffed by my so douching I would roll myself for holy poly over his hump, drogueries inaddendance, frons, fesces and frithstool: i) he hade to die to day, goddam and higgod, sticks and stanks, of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from 4 next to nobody expected, their star