Our Maſter Mars Haſt vouch'd his Oracle, and to Arcite gave The grace of the Contention: So the Deities Have ſhewd due juſtice: […]

All the flaking paint had to be scraped off before repainting; fortunately, it came off easily.

Hok introduced me and Reever as whiteskin friends of the tribe. The bride's mother, who had the rather menacing name Veda Wolfkiller, gave me the once-over. “You don't look much whiteskin to me.” “I'm only half-white,” I said, […]

Compound for sins they are inclined to / By damning those they have no mind to.