Book, Chapter

 1    1,  5|     visions, that even yet I think my self sprinkled and wet
 2    2, 11|   you our countrey? Verily I think there is no other City which
 3    3, 17|    my host, and I did verily think that mine owne horse (if
 4    4, 21|     a while to speake, for I think I shall not long live, let
 5    4, 22|   doe chance to againe (as I think no otherwise but that they
 6    4, 22|      of my name? What did he think that I was a bawd, by whose
 7    7, 37|   sort, Verely (quoth one) I think that this rude Asse be dead.
 8    7, 37|   this rude Asse be dead. So think I (quoth another) for the
 9    8, 46|     grieved me so much as to think, how I should with my huge
10    9, 47| bound and subject to me! And think it not an injury to be alwayes