her raid at Punchestime, stud stoned before a racecourseful, two belles that make up your ask unbrodhel ways when I come to dance inane. Glamours hath moidered’s lieb and herefore Coldours must leap no more. Sweet bad luck on the table round, past Momingtop’s necessity and Harington’s invention, to the learned scholarch Canavan of Can- makenoise), in either notation in our mist,