{"character_count": 415, "word_count": 81, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9567000269889832], "ccnet_perplexity": [1950.5], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
You must unsay those words, For my nation l ask it. Ha! an apology make, Says old Drew, that's all basket; sFis too much 'gainst the grain, And may ] be kick'd, They must do wet is right, Or expect to be lick'd. So he wrote home to Livy, To pack his tatters- Adding pay for your board, And all other odd matters; Clear out and return

 To your own native land Thus at this present writing, These matters doth stand.