"Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. ‘Major, sir!’ The major appeared so swiftly that Melusine was instantly suspicious. Only an undermaid I was then. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina.
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