The kyng of Englande mounted on a freſhe courſer, the trapper of clothe of golde, of Tiſſue, the Arſon mantell wiſe[…]
The sailor could feel the spray from the waves.
Winston wore a nightcap to stave off the cold.
Mrs. Prior and her basket were gone when we repaired to the drawing-room: having been hunting all day, the hungry mother had returned with her prey to her wide-mouthed birdikins.
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