I don't think your uncle knows either.
— from Nobody's Girl (En Famille) by Hector Malot

Mebbe some of you 'ud know 'em."
— from Old Man Savarin, and Other Stories by Edward William Thomson

Again, as it is nowhere stated that “Arncytel,” for instance, who was coiner in York under King Ethelred, was the same man as Edward the Confessor’s coiner in that city, it is clear that the fifty names here given might very easily have belonged to ninety or a hundred different persons; yet they are but a selection from a greater number.
— from An Account of the Danes and Norwegians in England, Scotland, and Ireland by Jens Jacob Asmussen Worsaae

"When you told me 'never to speak to you again,'—you recollect?—there came a strange hard look into your usually kind eyes—" pressing her hand gently to take somewhat from the sting of his words—"that cut me to the heart.
— from Airy Fairy Lilian by Duchess

There was something delightful to Grisell in that “we,” but she made answer, “So far as I hear, there has been quiet there for the last two years under King Edward.”
— from Grisly Grisell; Or, The Laidly Lady of Whitburn: A Tale of the Wars of the Roses by Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary) Yonge

“I'll not drink it, you ugly keout ,” exclaimed Philip, in his deep and ruffianly voice; “but come—all o' yez fill up and drink my toast.
— from The Emigrants Of Ahadarra The Works of William Carleton, Volume Two by William Carleton

[1342] William de Grenefild, from the Deanry of Chichester, stepped to the Chauncellorship of England, and Archbishoprick of York, under K. E. the first.
— from The Survey of Cornwall And an epistle concerning the excellencies of the English tongue by Richard Carew

But supposing that you carry your senses along with you, and are resolved to stop at nothing short of the deep workings, you continue, sometimes crawling down the ladders, and sometimes stepping cautiously across the landings, and pass several levels in your descent—viz., one twenty fathoms down, one thirty-five, one fifty, and at length you arrive at the seventy fathom, when you are some where about the level of the village, or about 420 feet below the place where you commenced your underground knight errantry—or, again, about 640 feet below the top of the shaft.
— from The Old Man; or, Ravings and Ramblings round Conistone by Alexander Craig Gibson