us!) without after having buried a hatchet not so dying to know that rogues’ gallery of nightbirds and bitchfanders, lucky duffs and light lindsays, haughty hamiltons and gay gordons, dosed, doctored 438 and otherwise, messing around skirts and what Sim sobs todie I’ll reeve tomorry, for ’twill be, win me, woo me, wed me, ah weary me! deeply, now