Anne and Henrietta, finding themselves the earliest of the party the next morning, agreed to stroll down to the sea before breakfast.

Master, I bring from many wanderings, The gathered garner of my years to thee; One precious fruit of many rain-blown springs And sun-shod summers, ripened over-sea.

Would you like some grapes?

[A]s his Verse is ſcabrous, and hobbling, and his Words not every where well choſen, the purity of Latin being more corrupted, than in the time of Juvenal, and conſequently of Horace, who writ when the Language was in the heighth of its perfection; ſo his diction is hard; his Figures are generally too bold and daring; and his Tropes, particularly his Metaphors, inſufferably ſtrain'd.