Alison had a mouthful of warm, rather fusty wine and lay back on the grass, cupping the back of her head in her hand.

Press on! for it is godlike to unloose The spirit, and forget yourself in thought; Bending a pinion for the deeper sky, And, in the very fetters of your flesh, Mating with the pure essences of heaven!

And þat is þe professioun appertly · þat appendeth for knyȝtes.

Each of the robbers took a share of the loot.