Querentyne is where a man dyeth seisyd of a maner place and other landis where of the wyfe ought to be indowed, than the woman shall hold the maner place by .xl. days within which tyme her dower shalbe to her assyned.
Ile ſooner truſt an Iriſhman with my / Aquauita bottle, Sir Hu[gh Evans] our parſon with my cheeſe, / A theefe to walk my ambling gelding, thẽ my wife / With her ſelfe; […]
She wore only the subtlest touch of make up and round her delicate throat only a single string of pearls. Among the hundred bedizened women she was a rarity.
By the way Bill, exactly what color is the sun in your world? You are so far out there I swear you're going to get a nosebleed from the altitude alone.
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