" "How many tines did you marry, Aunt Add.?

We had good cane molasses all the tine.

Rehearse to me, ye sacred Sisters nine, The golden brood of great Apolloes wit, Those piteous plaints and sorowfull sad tine Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit Beside the silver springs of Helicone, 5 Making your musick of hart-breaking mone!