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At first the infant, mewling and puking in the nurses arms
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With his satchel, and shining morning face, creepong like a snail,unwillingly to school
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sighning like a furnace, with a woeful ballad
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in fair round belly with capon lined, with eyes severe and beard formal cut, full of wise saws and modern instances, and so he plays his part.
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lean and slippered. with spectacles on nose and pouch on side, his youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide, for his shruk shank, and his big manly voice, turning again towards childish treble, pipes and whistles in his sound
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Full of strangle oaths and bearded like a pard, jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, seeking the bubble reputation even in the canons mouth.
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Sans teeth, sans eyes, san everything.