For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More.
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