E that would shine, and petrify his tutor,
Should drink draught Allsopp in its "native pewter."
C. S. Calverley, Verses and Translations.
AUK, sir! Love's all in the fancy. One does not eat it, nor drink it: and as for the rest—why, it's a bother.
Corporal Bunting, in Lytton's Eugene Aram.
R. O——'s affairs turn out so sadly that he cannot have the pleasure of waiting upon his lordship at his agreeable house on Monday next.—N.B. His wife is dead."
J. C. Young, Diary.
HY, the Scotch tunes are just like a scolding, nagging woman. They go on with the same thing over and over again, and never come to a reasonable end. Anybody 'ud think the Scotch tunes had always been asking a question of somebody as deaf as old Taft, and had never got an answer yet.