Слово "yoke". Англо-русский словарь Мюллера

And since they would all be brothers under one yoke they would even have the illusion of fraternity.

You will subjugate the unknown beings on other planets, who may still be living in the primitive condition of freedom, to the beneficent yoke of reason.

They had a very long, amicable, and confidential talk there, in the course of which Jos Sedley was somehow made aware (but in a manner that did not in the least scare or offend him) that Becky's heart had first learned to beat at his enchanting presence; that George Osborne had certainly paid an unjustifiable court to HER, which might account for Amelia's jealousy and their little rupture; but that Becky never gave the least encouragement to the unfortunate officer, and that she had never ceased to think about Jos from the very first day she had seen him, though, of course, her duties as a married woman were paramount--duties which she had always preserved, and would, to her dying day, or until the proverbially bad climate in which Colonel Crawley was living should release her from a yoke which his cruelty had rendered odious to her.

Ten yokes of oxen dragging a boat with sails out of the sea in the morning with the line of the small waves breaking on the beach.

They were under a yoke,—I could free them: they were scattered,—I could reunite them: the independence, the affluence which was mine, might be theirs too.

I rested my temples on the breast of temptation, and put my neck voluntarily under her yoke of flowers. I tasted her cup.

I rested my temples on the breast of temptation, and put my neck voluntarily under her yoke of flowers. I tasted her cup.

Inside the cowhouse the floors were newly-washed, the water running in a groove, but the good cow smell, the manure, the milky tang, clung to the walls and the wooden partition. As I turned, an old woman emerged from some lair at the further end, smiling, toothless, her clogs clattering on the stone floor, bearing the yoke on her shoulders and the empty swinging pails. ‘Benj’ur, M’sieur le Camte,’ she seemed to say, and proceeded to talk rapidly, jerking her head and laughing, and I was lost for answer, her broad, toothless accent too unfamiliar to my ears. I left her with a wave of my hand, passing a vast heap of cider apples ready for the press, and on through line upon line of vegetables – the sprouting purple green of root crops, the dew upon them still, their pungent, earthy odour mingled with dried sunflower, tarragon, and raspberry cane – and so out through another door, through another wall, and into the immediate château grounds beneath the chestnut trees, their falling leaves dappling the sandy path with patterns of green and gold.

The horses carried it off in cartloads, the sheep dragged single blocks, even Muriel and Benjamin yoked themselves into an old governess-cart and did their share.