Eternall thraldom was to her more liefe, / Then loſſe of chaſtitie, or chaunge of loue : / Dye had ſhe rather in tormenting griefe, / Then any ſhould of falſeneſſe her reproue, / Or looſeneſſe, that ſhe lightly did remoue.
The field was then laid to grass and after a dozen years could be woaded again.
The high spot of the week was when they combed the contents of her bottle-brush head—burrs and buzzies, various creepy-crawlies dislodged from the greenery as she tripped past—out onto an old copy of the Sydney Morning Herald and burned the result.
Standing at the rail of his caravel on a sultry Caribbean evening as the water jogged and swashed the boat, he smelled the perfume of soil and flowers wafting on a land breeze from the island of Cuba.
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