She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. "By desire of his Majesty," said the jailer, consequentially.
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