![]() ![]() ![]() Pitching his voice to reach the 'farthest member of his audience, he proclaimed, "Damn yon brazen sun! Would God that wispy London fog might cover o'er its bright and erring face, and so conceal us from our enernies - " Seeing the crowd of beggars, drunkards, and prostitutes gathering in the doorways of the tall, ill-kept taverns and tenements that lined the street, he slowed and pointed one hand skyward. Responsibility was for lesser men Sir Daniel Plympton, Esquire, lived to laugh, drink, fight, swive - and act. When watered with intrigue, he grew like a mighty oak, and he thrived on life's tumult. With every stomp of their boots, with every shout and every curse, the men-at-arms proclaimed their intention to commit murder most foul. "Catch 'em an' th' earl o' Essex'll reward ye!Ĭurious spectators turned to watch as Sir Danny and his ward skidded around the corner, but no one stepped between the soldiers and their prey. The mud of the squalid London streets splashed to his knees, and he cleared a garbage-eating pig in one leap. The shouts of five men-at-arms propelled Sir Danny yet faster. ![]()
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