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Section 187
Passage 1 of 1 · section 187 of 1288
1Mon.
2Me thinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at Land,
3A fuller blast ne're shooke our Battlements:
4If it hath ruffiand so vpon the Sea,
5What ribbes of Oake, when Mountaines melt on them,
6Can hold the Morties. What shall we heare of this?