How doth one protesteth a petty injustice, when one’s very sustenance is at stake?
“Mummy? Whilst thou giveth me mine cookie?”
Ah, to babble, perchance to speak? Perhaps whence mine age becometh two.
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How doth one protesteth a petty injustice, when one’s very sustenance is at stake?
“Mummy? Whilst thou giveth me mine cookie?”
Ah, to babble, perchance to speak? Perhaps whence mine age becometh two.
Forsooth ye gods of mischief!