Update tests with z3998:name-title semantic

tests/data/build/text/chapter-1.xhtml

@@ -17,7 +17,7 @@
 			<p>“Strain!” he snorted. “Simple as A, B, C! Mathematical certainty!”</p>
 			<p>He seemed to brace himself up and lean backward against the air as he stared at me. “How about this here tide that’s rushin’ out through the Golden Gate?” he demanded, or bellowed, rather. “How fast is she ebbin’? What’s the drift, eh? Listen to that, will you? A bell buoy, and we’re atop of it! See ’em alterin’ the course!”</p>
 			<p>From out of the fog came the mournful tolling of a bell, and I could see the pilot turning the wheel with great rapidity. The bell, which had seemed straight ahead, was now sounding from the side. Our own whistle was blowing hoarsely, and from time to time the sound of other whistles came to us from out of the fog.</p>
-			<p>“That’s a ferryboat of some sort,” the newcomer said, indicating a whistle off to the right. “And there! D’ye hear that? Blown by mouth. Some scow schooner, most likely. Better watch out, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Schooner-man. Ah, I thought so. Now hell’s a poppin’ for somebody!”</p>
+			<p>“That’s a ferryboat of some sort,” the newcomer said, indicating a whistle off to the right. “And there! D’ye hear that? Blown by mouth. Some scow schooner, most likely. Better watch out, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Schooner-man. Ah, I thought so. Now hell’s a poppin’ for somebody!”</p>
 			<p>The unseen ferryboat was blowing blast after blast, and the mouth-blown horn was tooting in terror-stricken fashion.</p>
 			<p>“And now they’re payin’ their respects to each other and tryin’ to get clear,” the red-faced man went on, as the hurried whistling ceased.</p>
 			<p>His face was shining, his eyes flashing with excitement as he translated into articulate language the speech of the horns and sirens. “That’s a steam siren a-goin’ it over there to the left. And you hear that fellow with a frog in his throat⁠—a steam schooner as near as I can judge, crawlin’ in from the Heads against the tide.”</p>

tests/data/build/text/chapter-2.xhtml

@@ -15,11 +15,11 @@
 			<p>“An’ ’ow yer feelin’ now, sir?” he asked, with the subservient smirk which comes only of generations of tip-seeking ancestors.</p>
 			<p>For reply, I twisted weakly into a sitting posture, and was helped by Yonson to my feet. The rattle and bang of the frying pan was grating horribly on my nerves. I could not collect my thoughts. Clutching the woodwork of the galley for support⁠—and I confess the grease with which it was scummed put my teeth on edge⁠—I reached across a hot cooking-range to the offending utensil, unhooked it, and wedged it securely into the coal box.</p>
 			<p>The cook grinned at my exhibition of nerves, and thrust into my hand a steaming mug with an “ ’Ere, this’ll do yer good.” It was a nauseous mess⁠—ship’s coffee⁠—but the heat of it was revivifying. Between gulps of the molten stuff I glanced down at my raw and bleeding chest and turned to the Scandinavian.</p>
-			<p>“Thank you, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Yonson,” I said; “but don’t you think your measures were rather heroic?”</p>
+			<p>“Thank you, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Yonson,” I said; “but don’t you think your measures were rather heroic?”</p>
 			<p>It was because he understood the reproof of my action, rather than of my words, that he held up his palm for inspection. It was remarkably calloused. I passed my hand over the horny projections, and my teeth went on edge once more from the horrible rasping sensation produced.</p>
 			<p>“My name is Johnson, not Yonson,” he said, in very good, though slow, English, with no more than a shade of accent to it.</p>
 			<p>There was mild protest in his pale blue eyes, and withal a timid frankness and manliness that quite won me to him.</p>
-			<p>“Thank you, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Johnson,” I corrected, and reached out my hand for his.</p>
+			<p>“Thank you, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Johnson,” I corrected, and reached out my hand for his.</p>
 			<p>He hesitated, awkward and bashful, shifted his weight from one leg to the other, then blunderingly gripped my hand in a hearty shake.</p>
 			<p>“Have you any dry clothes I may put on?” I asked the cook.</p>
 			<p>“Yes, sir,” he answered, with cheerful alacrity. “I’ll run down an’ tyke a look over my kit, if you’ve no objections, sir, to wearin’ my things.”</p>

tests/data/formatting/in/endnotes.xhtml

@@ -12,7 +12,7 @@
 				<li id="note-127" epub:type="endnote">
 					<p>Philip Stanhope, second Earl of Chesterfield, <abbr>ob.</abbr> 1713, <i xml:lang="la"><abbr>æt.</abbr> suæ</i> 80. We learn, from the memoir prefixed to his <i epub:type="se:name.publication.book">Printed Correspondence</i>, that he fought three duels, disarming and wounding his first and second antagonists, and killing the third. The name of the unfortunate gentleman who fell on this occasion was Woolly. Lord Chesterfield, absconding, went to Breda, where he obtained the royal pardon from Charles <span epub:type="z3998:roman">II</span>. He acted a busy part in the eventful times in which he lived, and was remarkable for his steady adherence to the Stuarts. Lord Chesterfield’s letter to Charles <span epub:type="z3998:roman">II</span>, and the King’s answer granting the royal pardon, occur in the Correspondence published by General Sir John Murray, in 1829.</p>
 					<blockquote>
-						<p>“<abbr>Jan.</abbr> 17th, 1659. The Earl of Chesterfield and <abbr>Dr.</abbr> Woolly’s son of Hammersmith, had a quarrel about a mare of eighteen pounds price; the quarrel would not be reconciled, insomuch that a challenge passed between them. They fought a duel on the backside of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Colby’s house at Kensington, where the Earl and he had several passes. The Earl wounded him in two places, and would fain have then ended, but the stubbornness and pride of heart of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Woolly would not give over, and the next pass [he] was killed on the spot. The Earl fled to Chelsea, and there took water and escaped. The jury found it chance-medley.”</p>
+						<p>“<abbr>Jan.</abbr> 17th, 1659. The Earl of Chesterfield and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Dr.</abbr> Woolly’s son of Hammersmith, had a quarrel about a mare of eighteen pounds price; the quarrel would not be reconciled, insomuch that a challenge passed between them. They fought a duel on the backside of <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Colby’s house at Kensington, where the Earl and he had several passes. The Earl wounded him in two places, and would fain have then ended, but the stubbornness and pride of heart of <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Woolly would not give over, and the next pass [he] was killed on the spot. The Earl fled to Chelsea, and there took water and escaped. The jury found it chance-medley.”</p>
 						<cite>Rugge’s <i epub:type="se:name.publication.book">Diurnal</i>, Addit <abbr>MSS.</abbr>, British Museum.</cite>
 					</blockquote>
 					<p>—<cite><abbr epub:type="z3998:personal-name" class="eoc">B.</abbr></cite> <a href="chapter-1.xhtml#noteref-127" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>

tests/data/formatting/in/inline.xhtml

@@ -4,7 +4,7 @@
 
 <body>
     <h2 epub:type="title">January 1659⁠–⁠60<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-47" id="noteref-47" epub:type="noteref">47</a></h2>
-    <p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Brown knew <em>everything</em> <i>The Post</i> had published.</p>
+    <p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Brown knew <em>everything</em> <i>The Post</i> had published.</p>
 </body>
 
 </html>

tests/data/formatting/in/paragraph.xhtml

@@ -4,10 +4,10 @@
     xml:lang="en-US">
 <body>
     <p>I selected the materials for a suit, with the assistance of
-        <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Trabb’s judgment, and re-entered the parlor to be measured. For although 
-        <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Trabb had my measure already, and had previously been quite contented with it,
+        <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Trabb’s judgment, and re-entered the parlor to be measured. For although 
+        <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Trabb had my measure already, and had previously been quite contented with it,
         he said apologetically that it “wouldn’t do under existing circumstances, sir⁠—wouldn’t do at all.”
-        So, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Trabb measured and calculated me in the parlor, as if I were an estate and 
+        So, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Trabb measured and calculated me in the parlor, as if I were an estate and 
         he the finest species of surveyor, and gave himself such a world of trouble that I felt that no
         suit of clothes could possibly remunerate him for his pains.
     </p>

tests/data/formatting/in/song.xhtml

@@ -8,14 +8,14 @@
 	<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
 		<section id="chapter-15" epub:type="chapter">
 			<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XV</h2>
-			<p>As I was getting too big for <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wopsle’s great-aunt’s room, my education under that preposterous female terminated. Not, however, until Biddy had imparted to me everything she knew, from the little catalogue of prices, to a comic song she had once bought for a halfpenny. Although the only coherent part of the latter piece of literature were the opening lines,</p><blockquote epub:type="z3998:song">
+			<p>As I was getting too big for <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wopsle’s great-aunt’s room, my education under that preposterous female terminated. Not, however, until Biddy had imparted to me everything she knew, from the little catalogue of prices, to a comic song she had once bought for a halfpenny. Although the only coherent part of the latter piece of literature were the opening lines,</p><blockquote epub:type="z3998:song">
 			<p><span>When I went to Lunnon town sirs,</span><br/>
 			<span class="i1">Too rul loo rul</span><br/>
 			<span class="i1">Too rul loo rul</span><br/>
 			<span>Wasn’t I done very brown sirs?</span><br/>
 			<span class="i1">Too rul loo rul</span><br/>
 			<span class="i1">Too rul loo rul</span></p></blockquote>
-			<p>—still, in my desire to be wiser, I got this composition by heart with the utmost gravity; nor do I recollect that I questioned its merit, except that I thought (as I still do) the amount of Too rul somewhat in excess of the poetry. In my hunger for information, I made proposals to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wopsle to bestow some intellectual crumbs upon me, with which he kindly complied. As it turned out, however, that he only wanted me for a dramatic lay-figure, to be contradicted and embraced and wept over and bullied and clutched and stabbed and knocked about in a variety of ways, I soon declined that course of instruction; though not until <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wopsle in his poetic fury had severely mauled me.</p>
+			<p>—still, in my desire to be wiser, I got this composition by heart with the utmost gravity; nor do I recollect that I questioned its merit, except that I thought (as I still do) the amount of Too rul somewhat in excess of the poetry. In my hunger for information, I made proposals to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wopsle to bestow some intellectual crumbs upon me, with which he kindly complied. As it turned out, however, that he only wanted me for a dramatic lay-figure, to be contradicted and embraced and wept over and bullied and clutched and stabbed and knocked about in a variety of ways, I soon declined that course of instruction; though not until <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wopsle in his poetic fury had severely mauled me.</p>
         </section>
     </body>
 </html>

tests/data/formatting/out/endnotes.xhtml

@@ -12,7 +12,7 @@
 				<li id="note-127" epub:type="endnote">
 					<p>Philip Stanhope, second Earl of Chesterfield, <abbr>ob.</abbr> 1713, <i xml:lang="la"><abbr>æt.</abbr> suæ</i> 80. We learn, from the memoir prefixed to his <i epub:type="se:name.publication.book">Printed Correspondence</i>, that he fought three duels, disarming and wounding his first and second antagonists, and killing the third. The name of the unfortunate gentleman who fell on this occasion was Woolly. Lord Chesterfield, absconding, went to Breda, where he obtained the royal pardon from Charles <span epub:type="z3998:roman">II</span>. He acted a busy part in the eventful times in which he lived, and was remarkable for his steady adherence to the Stuarts. Lord Chesterfield’s letter to Charles <span epub:type="z3998:roman">II</span>, and the King’s answer granting the royal pardon, occur in the Correspondence published by General Sir John Murray, in 1829.</p>
 					<blockquote>
-						<p>“<abbr>Jan.</abbr> 17th, 1659. The Earl of Chesterfield and <abbr>Dr.</abbr> Woolly’s son of Hammersmith, had a quarrel about a mare of eighteen pounds price; the quarrel would not be reconciled, insomuch that a challenge passed between them. They fought a duel on the backside of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Colby’s house at Kensington, where the Earl and he had several passes. The Earl wounded him in two places, and would fain have then ended, but the stubbornness and pride of heart of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Woolly would not give over, and the next pass [he] was killed on the spot. The Earl fled to Chelsea, and there took water and escaped. The jury found it chance-medley.”</p>
+						<p>“<abbr>Jan.</abbr> 17th, 1659. The Earl of Chesterfield and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Dr.</abbr> Woolly’s son of Hammersmith, had a quarrel about a mare of eighteen pounds price; the quarrel would not be reconciled, insomuch that a challenge passed between them. They fought a duel on the backside of <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Colby’s house at Kensington, where the Earl and he had several passes. The Earl wounded him in two places, and would fain have then ended, but the stubbornness and pride of heart of <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Woolly would not give over, and the next pass [he] was killed on the spot. The Earl fled to Chelsea, and there took water and escaped. The jury found it chance-medley.”</p>
 						<cite>Rugge’s <i epub:type="se:name.publication.book">Diurnal</i>, Addit <abbr>MSS.</abbr>, British Museum.</cite>
 					</blockquote>
 					<p>—<cite><abbr class="eoc" epub:type="z3998:personal-name">B.</abbr></cite> <a href="chapter-1.xhtml#noteref-127" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>

tests/data/formatting/out/inline.xhtml

@@ -2,6 +2,6 @@
 <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xmlns:epub="http://www.idpf.org/2007/ops" epub:prefix="z3998: http://www.daisy.org/z3998/2012/vocab/structure/, se: https://standardebooks.org/vocab/1.0" xml:lang="en-US">
 	<body>
 		<h2 epub:type="title">January 1659⁠–⁠60<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-47" id="noteref-47" epub:type="noteref">47</a></h2>
-		<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Brown knew <em>everything</em> <i>The Post</i> had published.</p>
+		<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Brown knew <em>everything</em> <i>The Post</i> had published.</p>
 	</body>
 </html>

tests/data/formatting/out/paragraph.xhtml

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 <?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
 <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xmlns:epub="http://www.idpf.org/2007/ops" epub:prefix="z3998: http://www.daisy.org/z3998/2012/vocab/structure/, se: https://standardebooks.org/vocab/1.0" xml:lang="en-US">
 	<body>
-		<p>I selected the materials for a suit, with the assistance of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Trabb’s judgment, and re-entered the parlor to be measured. For although <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Trabb had my measure already, and had previously been quite contented with it, he said apologetically that it “wouldn’t do under existing circumstances, sir⁠—wouldn’t do at all.” So, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Trabb measured and calculated me in the parlor, as if I were an estate and he the finest species of surveyor, and gave himself such a world of trouble that I felt that no suit of clothes could possibly remunerate him for his pains.</p>
+		<p>I selected the materials for a suit, with the assistance of <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Trabb’s judgment, and re-entered the parlor to be measured. For although <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Trabb had my measure already, and had previously been quite contented with it, he said apologetically that it “wouldn’t do under existing circumstances, sir⁠—wouldn’t do at all.” So, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Trabb measured and calculated me in the parlor, as if I were an estate and he the finest species of surveyor, and gave himself such a world of trouble that I felt that no suit of clothes could possibly remunerate him for his pains.</p>
 		<!-- This is a comment! -->
 		<p>I was so far in my reflections when, as I have said, a side light began to shine upon the subject from the laboratory table.</p>
 		<p>But Henchard was not left long in suspense. Lucetta was rather addicted to scribbling, as had been shown by the torrent of letters after the <i>fiasco</i> in their marriage arrangements, and hardly had Elizabeth gone away when another note came to the Mayor’s house from High-Place Hall.</p>

tests/data/formatting/out/song.xhtml

@@ -8,7 +8,7 @@
 	<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
 		<section id="chapter-15" epub:type="chapter">
 			<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XV</h2>
-			<p>As I was getting too big for <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wopsle’s great-aunt’s room, my education under that preposterous female terminated. Not, however, until Biddy had imparted to me everything she knew, from the little catalogue of prices, to a comic song she had once bought for a halfpenny. Although the only coherent part of the latter piece of literature were the opening lines,</p>
+			<p>As I was getting too big for <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wopsle’s great-aunt’s room, my education under that preposterous female terminated. Not, however, until Biddy had imparted to me everything she knew, from the little catalogue of prices, to a comic song she had once bought for a halfpenny. Although the only coherent part of the latter piece of literature were the opening lines,</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:song">
 				<p>
 					<span>When I went to Lunnon town sirs,</span>
@@ -24,7 +24,7 @@
 					<span class="i1">Too rul loo rul</span>
 				</p>
 			</blockquote>
-			<p>—still, in my desire to be wiser, I got this composition by heart with the utmost gravity; nor do I recollect that I questioned its merit, except that I thought (as I still do) the amount of Too rul somewhat in excess of the poetry. In my hunger for information, I made proposals to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wopsle to bestow some intellectual crumbs upon me, with which he kindly complied. As it turned out, however, that he only wanted me for a dramatic lay-figure, to be contradicted and embraced and wept over and bullied and clutched and stabbed and knocked about in a variety of ways, I soon declined that course of instruction; though not until <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wopsle in his poetic fury had severely mauled me.</p>
+			<p>—still, in my desire to be wiser, I got this composition by heart with the utmost gravity; nor do I recollect that I questioned its merit, except that I thought (as I still do) the amount of Too rul somewhat in excess of the poetry. In my hunger for information, I made proposals to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wopsle to bestow some intellectual crumbs upon me, with which he kindly complied. As it turned out, however, that he only wanted me for a dramatic lay-figure, to be contradicted and embraced and wept over and bullied and clutched and stabbed and knocked about in a variety of ways, I soon declined that course of instruction; though not until <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wopsle in his poetic fury had severely mauled me.</p>
 		</section>
 	</body>
 </html>