You must up and be doing.
Depend on’t, Sir Knight, this is no time for wooing;
You’ll discover, unless you progress rather smarter,
That catching a giant’s like catching a Tartar:
He still has some thirty-five minutes to sleep.
Close to this spot hangs a precipice steep,
Like Shakspeare’s tall cliff which they show one at Dover;
Drag him down to the brink, and then let him roll over;
As they scarce make a capital crime of infanticide,
There can’t be any harm in a little giganticide.