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After goynge be see and be londe, toward this contree, of that I have spoke, and to other yles and londes bezonde that contree, I have founden the sterre Antartyk of 33 degrees of heghte, and mo mynutes. And zif I hadde had companye and schippynge, for to go more bezonde, I trowe wel in certeyn, that wee scholde have seen alle the roundnesse of the firmament alle aboute.
"I haven't told you yet, Elizabeth, what I came to town for," said Aunt Faith, when Mrs. Gartney came back into the breakfast room. "I'm going to hunt up a girl." "A girl, aunt! Why, what has become of Prudence?" "Mrs. Pelatiah Trowe. That's what's become of her. More fool she." "But why in the world do you come to the city for a servant? It's the worst possible place.
"'Smyte on boldly, sayd Robyn, 'I give thee large leve. Anon our kynge, with that word, He folde up his sleve. "And such a buffet he gave Robyn, To grounde he yode full nere. 'I make myn avowe, sayd Robyn, 'Thou art a stalwarte frere. "'There is pyth in thyn arme, sayd Robyn, 'I trowe thou canst well shoote. Thus our kynge and Hobyn Hode Together they are met."
And whoso that wole, may leve me, zif he wille; and who so wille not, may chuse. For I wot wel, zif ony man hathe ben in tho contrees bezonde, thoughe he have not ben in the place, where the grete Chane duellethe, he schalle here speke of him so meche merveylouse thing, that he schalle not trowe it lightly: and treuly, no more did I my self, til I saughe it.
Rare conjunction, the whole of the countenance was remarkable both for symmetry and expression the latter mainly a bright intelligence; and if, strangely enough, the predominant sweetness and delicacy at first suggested genius unsupported by practical faculty, there was a plentifulness and strength in the chin which helped to correct the suggestion, and with the brightness and prominence of the eyes and the radiance of the whole, to give a brave, almost bold look to a face which could hardly fail to remind those who knew them of the lovely verses of Matthew Raydon, describing that of sir Philip Sidney: A sweet attractive kinde of grace, A full assurance given by lookes, Continuall comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospell-bookes; I trowe that countenance cannot lie Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.
Thanne I trowe wel, that within a lytyl tyme, our righte heritage before seyd scholde be reconsyled and put in the hondes of the right heires of Jesu Crist. Of which londes and iles, I schall speake more pleynly hereaftre.
I have no rost, but a nut brawne toste And a crab laid in the fyre; A little breade shall do me steade, Much breade I not desyre. No frost nor snow, nor winde, I trowe, Can hurte mee, if I wolde, I am so wrapt and throwly lapt Of joly good ale and olde. Chorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc.
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