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‘Let the sky rain potatoes,

Let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves, hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here’.
Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 5, Scene 5, l. 20-22.

Ah Sir John Falstaff.

March 3rd, 2006 | Category: Musings

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