Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. To perdition with them all. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head.
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