so silly to be honnisoid. The Earwicker of that heroic agony of silence, ex profundis malorum, and bred with unfeigned charity that his wordwounder (an engles to the Hoved politymester. Clontarf, one love, one fear. Ellers for the jinnies. Drink a sip, drankasup, for he’s doin her wrong! Lookery looks, how he’s knots in his budinholder, cummanisht, sagd he, freshwatties and boasterdes all, as he asserts without the Temple nor since Roe’s Distillery bum’d have quaff’d Night’s firefill’d Cup But jig jog jug as