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; […]
Let waving locks adown his foretop fly, And brills embrown’d should edge his broad bright eye ;
History is replete with instances of great men ruled by their barbers.
That'd be great.
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