Stiver.
But chiefly after five, when I was free,
I’d rattle off whole reams of poetry—
Ten—fifteen folios ere I went to bed—
Falk.
I see—you gave your Pegasus his head,
And off he tore—
Stiver.
On stamped or unstamped paper—
’Twas all the same to him—he’d prance and caper—