"Ne wolde he call upon the Nine;'I wote,' he sayde, 'they be but jyltes:'Ne covet when he wander'd forthIcarus' wings—ne traytor stiltes." Old AuthorOpening: "How happens it," I said to a bookseller in the Zeil, "that a map of Bohemia is not to be had in all Frankfort?""How it happens?" he answered,...
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