Thou, trumpet, there’s my purſe; / Now cracke thy lungs, and ſplit thy braſen pipe: / Blow, villaine, till thy ſphered Bias cheeke / Out-ſwell the collicke of puft Aquilon: / Come, ſtretch thy cheſt, and let thy eyes ſpout bloud: / Thou bloweſt for Hector.

Xodar listened in incredulous astonishment to my narration of the events which had transpired within the arena at the rites of Issus.

If a boy enters mercantile life, he must for three years attend a continuation school organized by the Merchants' Association […]

Albeit his lusty valiantnes, force, and Skill in Chiualrous feates and exercises: his humblenes, and frendelynes to all men, were thinges, openly, of the world perceiued.