(Contemptuously.) You're not game, in fact. (Her sowcunt barks.) Fbhracht!
(Contemptuously.) Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself.
I know you, canvasser! Dead cod!
I saw him, kipkeeper! Pox and gleet vendor!"