[…] no man is believ’d a jot the more for all the Asseverations, Damnings and Swearings he makes:

She had a baby slung on her back in a shawl, a girl child clinging to her skirts, and a heavy-faced boy plodding behind her.

Constantinopolis → Constantinople

[S]he flaps distractedly past us in a splather of muddy spume.