His eyes so dim, so wasted each limb, that, heedless of grammar, they all cried, that's him!

In brief, I don't stick to declare, Father Dick, So they call him for short, is a regular brick; A metaphor taken--I have not the page aright-- From an ethical work by the Stagyrite.

Knight without fear and without reproach. [Fr., Chevalier sans peur et sans reproche.]

'Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.

I was between A man and a boy, A hobble-de-hoy, A fat, little, punchy concern of sixteen.

He was such a dear little cock-tailed pup.