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Peter Faultless to his brother Simon

tales of night, in rhyme, and other poems. By the author of Night [i.e. Ebenezer Elliott]

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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
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XXVI.

“Renounce him then, at once for me!”
Exclaim'd that man of mystery.
“Dost thou not know me, woman, say?
Behold thy husband, William Bray!”
And round her neck his arms he threw,
And cried, “What now? Why this ado?”
And kiss'd, as he would kiss her through.

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But she cuff'd, kick'd, and bawl'd, “Away!
Off, dotard, off! or thou shalt rue
My biting tooth, and tearing nail.”
Then glowr'd she—neither pleas'd, nor civil,—
Like one who thinks he sees the devil,
And knows him by his horns and tail.
“Thou?—thou my husband, William Bray?
Why thou art, as a badger, grey!”
Quoth he, “I am, and well I may;
I have been absent many a day.”
“But,” shrilly yell'd she in dismay,
“Thou art as ugly as thou'rt grey,
With whiskers red, as reynard's tail,
And square beard, like a windmill sail.—
Why dost thou still, so goat-like, eye me?—
Thou William?—Devil, I defy thee.”