To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow, / Creepes in this petty pace from day to day, / To the laſt Syllable of Recorded time: / And all our yeſterdayes, haue lighted Fooles / The way to duſty death.

The robot was so lifelike, Jack could hardly tell it apart from his sister.

These quartermasters are also to take their turns in the cunding of the ship, […] .

These dangerous, unsafe lunes i' the king.