Give my horse a bait and a drink, I beg of ye, for I must get on my way.' My young brother Hosea looked to the tired creature, while we brought the rider inside and drew him a stoup of beer.

A wiry, sharp-faced man he was, with a birth-mark upon his temple.

His face and clothes were caked with dust, and his limbs were so stiff from the saddle that he could scarce put one foot before another.
'One horse hath died under me,' he said, 'and this can scarce last another twenty miles.

I must be in London by morning, for we hope that Danvers and Wildman may be able to raise the city.

Yester-evening I left Monmouth's camp.