The highest form of knowledge was magic: the priesthood. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. A dissipated, loose-living man. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation.
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