We went to a strawberry picking last June.

My horse would have trotted to Clifton within the hour, if left to himself, and I have almost broke my arm with pulling him in to that cursed broken-winded jade’s pace.

Wouldſt thou not haue ſome Bulchin from the herd / To phyſicke thee of this venereall itch?

But my Leech—a leech Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings, Capaciously expatiative, which make His little body like a red balloon, As full of blood as that of hydrogene, Sucked from men’s hearts