‘You're riding for a fall, Healey, you know that? There are hedges and ditches ahead and you are on course for an almighty cropper.... And I shall be cheering and laughing as you tumble,’ said Meddlar, his spectacles flashing. ‘That's just the warm-hearted Christian in you, sir.’

Now murm'ring soft, now roaring in cascade.

I am poſſeſt with an adulterate blot, / My bloud is mingled with the crime of luſt: […]

By our factious orthography, we argue ad hominem, that confusion is produced; polynyms are as numerous as homonyms.