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I stretcht thy joynts to make thee even feet, Yet still thou run'st more hobling then is meet; In better dress to trim thee was my mind, But nought save home-spun Cloth, i' th' house I find In this array, mong'st Vulgars mayst thou roam In Critick's hands, beware thou dost not come; And take thy way where yet thou art not known, If for thy Father askt, say, thou hadst none; And for thy Mother, she alas is poor.
That may be about two months ago; last week, towards evening, something came scratching at our room door; come in! no one opened; but the scraping and scratching continued: so my Godfred opened the door and looked out, in springs our old smith's dog like a fool and behind him came hobling the diseased thing, the cur there with a broken leg dragging behind him, and the smith's dog danced and sprang round my husband, as if to beg, and thus supplicated him that he would also doctor his comrade.
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