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CHAPTER XXVII.
Caliban.—Hast thou not dropped from heaven ?—Tempest.
Petition to the King!
!

CHAPTER XXVIII.
God bless our King and Parliament,
And send that they may make such knaves repent!
Loyal Songs against the Rump Parliament,
Ho, treachery! my guards, my cimeter!—Byron
"When the irreverent Mr. Pepper had warmed his hands sufficiently to be able to transfer them from the fire, he lifted the right palm, and, with an indecent jocularity of spirit, accosted the
ci-devant ornament of the Assembly with a sounding slap on his
back — or some such part of his conformation. 