His wits were sent him for a token, \ But in the carriage crack'd and broken. \ Like commendation nine-pence, crookt \ With—to and from my love—it lookt.
But when his foe lyes prostrate on the plain, He sheaths his paws, uncurls his angry mane; And, pleas'd with bloudless honours of the day, Walks over, and disdains th' inglorious Prey.
They are only strolling for ten minutes when they stumble on a snackette sandwiched between a dry-goods store and a drug store. There are many people drifting in and out of the snackette and several seated on stools […]
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DiQt
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