We walked down and had a peep into the stables, saw a neatish hunter or two, and two mares, which appeared clippers.

In contrast to the (to be sure, productive) shapings and constrainings of human identities in the sociotechnical network, here we have an expansion of identity.

Furious in their Adverſity, tyrannical in their Succeſſes, a Commander had more trouble to concert his Defence before the People, than to plan the Operations of the Campaign.

Everyone will have to guess who I want to dance with tonight, I thought. I'm not giving myself away to this bunch of gomers. That would be way too embarrassing.