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.
Then Sir Launcelot said with dreary steeven [voice], “Sir bishop, I pray you give to me all my rights that longeth to a Christian man.”
Put thy ſelfe / Into a hauiour of leſſe feare, ere wildneſſe / Vanquiſh my ſtayder Senſes.
After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his fathers death succeeded in the kingdome of Galatia, he (forgetting all former iniuries) had receiued that naughtie Plexirtus into a streight degree of fauour […]
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