Debes ludibrium, cave.
Johnny.
If it wasn't for the wind,
You ought to play in a cave.
Papa. Ha! Well, here's the last; we may as well go through it.
Myself. Papa! don't be so cross.
Papa. Mind your letter-writing, will you? [But I wasn't letter-writing. I was making notes.]
Nuper sollicitum quæ mihi tædium.
Johnny. Lately a solicitor was a great bore to me.
Papa. [To do him justice, he recovered his good-humour and roared.]