He made England too hot to hold him, fled to Central America, and died there in 1876 of yellow fever.

“That guy,” she resumed, “makes millions persuading women they'll be more fuckworthy after he's sliced off some bit of them or added something. But EVERYBODY'S fuckworthy! We'd all fuck anybody in an emergency. . . ”

[V]pon a ſodaine, / As Falſtaffe, ſhe, and I, are newly met, / Let them [children dressed like urchins, ouphes and fairies] from forth a ſaw-pit ruſh at once / With ſome diffuſed ſong: Vpon their ſight / We two, in great amazedneſſe will flye: […]

For quotations using this term, see Citations:penitentiary.