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January 27, 2006
Turpin
"Well, my Flash Crew, aren’t you Done up in Handsome Stile? All the same, Minkses or Morts, Jacks or Upright Men – as you’ve Blunt enough for Blue Ruin, I will have some Jaw with you. No Gammon and Patter, Time’s too short. They’ll Scrag me in the Morning, and before I dance the Tyburn Frisk I’ve some Words to say, that will prove more Durable than my Corse.
"He’s had a suit of cloaths tailored for tomorrow; it’s hanging over that chair – wide cuffed blue coat, weskit, shirt, cravat, fawn breeches, stockings, buckled pumps with a heel. His wig is a smart one of natural hair, tied with a black riband. Well, the crowd want their show, don’t they? Got to give them their gallant Dick.
The Prince Prigg of Plunderers reposes at his ease in York Castle. At dawn tomorrow the carriage will roll up to take him to Knavesmire to ascend his wooden throne. Crown him with a rough hat. Hang him with chains – no gold and silver, plain irons will be good enough to decorate Dick, king of the common men."
Rebecca Stephens
Posted by john at January 27, 2006 08:31 PM