Thrice ore the caddow I mine armes outſpred: / Thrice did I fall, before I once could riſe: / Leaning vpon mine elbow for a reſt, / Nodding, I knockt my chin againſt my breſt. // Then ſigh’d, ſlipt downe, and twixt the ſheete and pillow / I nuzled in, joyn’d knees and chin together: / I dream’d I wore a garland of greene willow. / But ſnuffling low, I prickt me with a fether; / So wakt, the bolſter for my backe I choſe, / And yawning thrice, I rub’d mine eyes and roſe.

Once, twice, thrice, I met Young Lubin on the Green, / once, twice, thrice, Young Lubin he met me, / the firſt time I beheld the Lad he made a humble bow, / I bluſh'd and hung my ſilly head and felt I don't know how, […]

And then he Bedivere] threw the sword into the water as far as he might, and there came an arm and a hand above the water, and met it and caught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished. And then the hand vanished away with the sword in the water.

Seven hours after giving birth […] Kate Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge] gave the world a first glimpse of their third child, a new Prince of Cambridge. […] Minutes after the brief photocall, the couple headed home with William [the Duke of Cambridge] emerging with his son in a car seat and holding Kate’s hand. “Thrice the worry now,” a smiling William said, holding up three fingers.

Thrice

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