As down the wind driveth and thrusts through the sea The sail-burg that striveth to turn and go free, But the lads at the tiller they hold her in hand, And the wind our well-willer drives fierce to the land.

The next day he realised that, glorious as his hiding place was as an escape from books and thwackings, it had its disadvantages: the chief was that there was nothing to eat and drink, and that is a very serious thing for a growing boy […]

My father had a quick wit and a steady hand.

FRANCISCO. They vanish'd strangely. SEBASTIAN. No matter, since They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.— Will't please you taste of what is here?