’ ‘Your groom? What for?’ ‘Get him to wait outside. "Take him home, Saunders," said Sir Rowland, resigning his faulty steed to the attendant's care, "I shall not require you further. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one.
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