You a Captaine? you ſlaue, for what? for tearing a poore Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-houſe? Hee a Captaine? hang him Rogue, hee liues vpon mouldie ſtew'd-Pruines, and dry'de Cakes.

burnt sienna:

Tip me the clank, like a dimber mort as you are; trim a ken for the gentry cove; he is no lanspresado, or I am a kinchin.

It is good to detect hints of a more aggressive attitude from the B.T.C. in face of constant reminders of accumulated deficits and niggling for economies before modernisation schemes have had a chance fully to fructify ….