5. . Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. My janizaries shall go with me. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me.
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