Knave
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How now, my dearest Lord and suit, Sir Knave?
Upon thine honour and upon thy grave,
Thou swearest prove thyself a gentleman,
And in itself to gain thyself a fan?
I’ve seen thee lock’d in taverns here and there,
"red imp you stink"always tossing ink Goodfellow's worth no troubleer he goes errs left rubbleshine a shoe change a facehe moves at a startling paceto and fro from king to queen
