How many times have you heard a young mother roll her eyes up to heaven at the sound of another mum calling out the name of her child, only to realize that the name she picked is now common as muck?
They denied me often flour, barm and milk, / Goose-grease and tar, when I ne'er hurt their charmings, / Their brewlocks, nor their batches, nor forespoke / Any of their breedings.
But he is here . . .taking up again what he had before rejected, and defiling himself in that from which he had been cleansed. . .entangled with their old sins, swallowed down their formerly rejected lusts, and rewallowed in the mire of corruption.
“Mornin’, ladies!” The door chimes were busy for a Tuesday. ¶ “Mornin’ back at ya’ – bein’ a bit presumptuous, aren’t you? I don't see any ladies!”
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