But the tailor standing solus gave me like a bitter bolus
That one word, as if his vacant soul in that he did outpour;
Me with no fine words he buttered, this from time to time he stuttered,
Till I very softly muttered, “other duns have been before;
They will give me further credit as my tradesmen have before;”
Then the dun said, “Tick-no-more!”
XI.
Startled that he spoke so flatly and replied so very patly,
“Limited,” I said, “it seems is his linguistic stock and store;
If of no more words he’s master, if he duns not harder, faster,