In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. ‘I feared as much. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. . She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat.
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