There was no one to cook the necessary food that the invalids required to pick up their strength; no fowls to be bought, to make into the essence that is so generally given to fever patients wherever I have been since.

{{quote-song|en|year=1965|lyricist=John Lennon|composer=|title=You've Got to Hide Your Love Away|album=Help!|artist=the Beatles|passage=Hey, you've got to hide your love away}}

to iridize a gold pen

Edgar: Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor your foins.