Now mayſter (ꝙ the wyfe) er that I go / What wol ye dyne? I wol go ther aboute. Now master, (quod the wife), ere that I go, / What will ye dine? I will go thereabout.]

[…]so Fritz could sleep easily in his trench, so far as mines were concerned; and Fritz, confident in his Herr Professors, altogether neglected any attempt to counter-mine.

He was selling a litter of 12 bonhams half-covered with straw.

Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite direction, continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly about him, clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it could not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an additional twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied with perfect coolness.