For 'tis plain as my face, she's in love with the man;
And he jealous may grow, while do all that I can
I much trouble may find in him undeceiving.
Those fellows are often so hard of believing!"
But not long could poor Peter discov'ry put off,
For he's all at once seized with a tickling cough,
Which to strangle he tries, but in vain; though he pokes
His red fist in his mouth till he very nigh chokes;
For escape it would find, like a boiler of steam:
Wherein water expands to such size that 'twould seem