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From "Love Sprawl'd Awry, or, The Chamberlain Expos'd" - - - - Enter Brandysnatch and Quiver. Bran. 'Twas never a whore in Halston but a ripe ditty would have her swived aright with tuppence in to chime against her heel! Quiv. 'Tis spoke aright, I trow, tho' John o' hops be spry upon thee. Bran. No welkin i' th' tide was tossed as she by me, for all her feckless prattle of calm became her. Bless her though: her charms were quaint. Flourish within. But of this matter, more anon, friend Quiver. His majesty, the King, upon his litter doth approach, serene as Jove pronouncing "gin" at cards, and girt with the kirtle of England's might. Enter Edward. Quiv. But soft, good Brandysnatch. He speaks. Ed. Inasmuch as duty doth compel our candour, Bran. My liege would treat of the Rabbi and the Nun! Quiv. Or of the mule whose wit did drub a steed! 'Tis a good fellow, our King Ted, and as I breathe, were it not treason so to fancy, marry, I'd have my King above all other jesters in the land. 'S well, my liege doth deign to speak again. Ed. Now entertain conjecture of a locust Rimshots within.
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