out of whoes eies there gushed streames of teares

With him there rode a gentle pardonere / Of Ronceval, his friend and his compere, / That straight was comen from the court of Rome.

“And here goes too!” cried Abraham; and we both, without hesitating any longer, emptied our bowls to the bottom; and so pure and delicious was the water that we emptied half a dozen leavesful more, and never felt a bit afraid that it would hurt us;[…]

‘I must see him!’ he exclaimed; but at that moment the Duke of Berwick's four-in-hand came between, and when it had left the space clear, the carriage had swept out of the Park.