I wore these spots of shine and silver like tilaks, the marks of colour that we Hindus wear on our foreheads as symbols of the divine.

He's on the way, and tells me he'll be here any minute now.

Orthodox Jews, in knee-breeches, with round hats and ringlets down their cheeks, were indulging in strange jerking movements, like puppets, while reading books […]

It ſeemes not meete, nor wholeſome to my place, / To be producted, (as, if I ſtay, I ſhall,) / Againſt the Moore. […]