“Neither Sydney nor I would think of such a thing. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. He tried again. “I wish you would come and see my lawyers. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. "Patience Kite has lured him to Enfield on a false scent after Blueskin.
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