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01
Owche, mine skull.
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02
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03
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04
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05
CDXX, blæze it.
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06
I lack fuches to giv.
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07
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08
Hath thy loines cryed out in ecstasie?
For I am not getting anie ye olde younger heere.
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09
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10
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11
Wall-Marte hath never beene this crowded beefor!
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12
I muste look flie for ye olde afterlyfe.
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13
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14
That beeth the sownd of alimonie.
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15
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16
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17
Mine choir page hath naught but fyve minutes charge lefte.
And somebodie hath ripp'd asse.
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18
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20
At leaste I have gæmes.
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21
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22
Ye olde anoying texte.
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23
Selfy tyme!
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24
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25
Waite 'til nexte trippe.
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