What sorrow hath swoln and beclouded thine eye?
What can have occasioned the tint of the rose
To abandon that cheek for the end of that nose?
"Strange ornament, strip of mere flannel, to deck
That swanlike, that snowy, that statuesque neck!
Why sit o'er the fender in such an odd trim,
With handkerchief stanching those red orbs that swim?"
"For shabe, Helry! dolt you bake ful so of be;
You bolkey, preteldil that you diddlet see
The state I ab ill; do you walt to be told?