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My fighting servant? has he beaten you, sir? Perhapps he thought you were his Rivall; surely I saw him not since yesterday. Cou. Bu'y, Ladie. How many mile ist to the next Cutlers? Sis. Dee heare, sir? I can tell you now what Lady twas you did Abuse so. Cou. I abuse a Ladie! tell me the slave Reported it. I hope twill prove this Mounsieur. If ere we meet agen! Who wast? Sis.

Perhapps it is some queint devise of theirs To hast your journey homeward out of France, To terminate their long-desired marriage. Pedro. The language of her letter speakes no such comfort, But I will hasten home; &, for you are So confident as not to thinke his honour Any way toucht, your good hopes be your guide Auspiciously to find it to your wish.

Perhapps I am not cleverr enuff to see the funn in this joke." In this letter I detect a certain softening of feeling towards Mrs. Rebecca Caulfield. In the next year '66 according to my notes, Matthew's father died, and I have no letters bearing the date of that year, which our Matthew no doubt spent at home.

Perhapps you would make preparations and not forgett that I told you. Your servant, MÉLANI. "'We must think, papa murmured. 'In my position, I ought to watch over your brother's last moments. "Mamma continued: 'I will send for Abbé Poivron and ask his advice, and then I will go to my brother's with the abbé and Roger.

Did I not love you, Sir, I could make choice Of other able men that would be glad To multiplie their money. Ri. Sir, I thanke you, But have no mind to thrive upon abuse of My princes favour nor the peoples curse. Here is a gentleman, Sir Francis Courtwell, Perhapps will undertake it. Fra. What, Sir Richard? Ri. A Monopolie for composeing and selling of perriwiggs. Fra.