Chor[us]. […] See, yonder ſits Well-born with his pretty Wife. / […] Shee ſeeks for her Gallant, and he o'my Life / Hath a mind to be feaguing yon Vizor-Mask-Whore.

And Oliver suits me, don't you find? It rather goes with my dark, dark hair and kissable ivory teeth, my slim waist, my panache and my linen suit with the ineradicable stain of Pinot Noir.

This final payment, or credit, balances the account.

“I kin take him from right here ’atwixt his eyes,” said Jenks softly, and tapped his rifle significantly.