“It was four o’clock before they broke up, huddled on their cloaks and hoods, and their chairs took them home with cold feet and aching heads.”
Swift says:—
“‘This morning when the parson came,
I said I should not win a game,
This odious chair, how came I stuck in’t?
I think I never had good luck in’t.
I’m so uneasy in my stays;
Your fan a moment, if you please.
Stand further, girl, or get you gone;
I always lose when you look on.’