I at Groom-Porter's, sir, can safer bleed.
Another, who the name of danger loaths,
Vow'd he would go, and swore me forty oaths,
But that his horses were in body-clothes.
A third cried,—Damn my blood, I'll be content
To push my fortune, if the parliament
Would but recal claret from banishment.
A fourth (and I have done) made this excuse—
I'd draw my sword in Ireland, sir, to chuse;
Had not their women gouty legs, and wore no shoes.