The key of the garden-door lost.
The empty bottles all uncleanable.
The vessels for drink very few and leaky.
The new house going to ruin before it is finished.
One hinge of the street-door broke off, and the people forced to go out and come in at the back-door.
The door of the Dean’s bed-chamber full of large chinks.
The beaufet letting in so much wind that it almost blows out the candles.
The Dean’s bed threatening every night to fall under him.
The little table loose and broken in the joints.
The passages open overhead, by which the cats pass continually into the cellar, and eat the victuals, for which one was tried, condemned, and executed by the sword.