On her departure, for the day the nephew , my love rival.
By the professional jester, talked a sad story, on bon festival penitence. Or, by the professional jester, deceived a sad story, on bon festival penitence.
On the night raising a rebellion, telling the one's dead, a foghorn calls.
In the bed camber, by double cast, until going into their ecstasies.
Having all to himself though, from the vessel, only overflowing. Or, having all to himself though, by small caliber of him, only overflowing.