How's your mother left you; or have you your fortune to get?
If you have I wish you may get it soon; but I can't let you marry Miss Bet;
But while I'm describing his bluntness, I'm wand'ring away from my point.
The limbs of my relation are indeed terribly out of joint.
Well, Mr. Figgins help'd Miss B. home to hop: the twig, which happen'd to lay across her foot,
Sav'd her other toes, to be sure, but there was a terrible large gash in her boot.
But poor Mr. F.! how he fretted! his fat cheeks than a mummy's were thinner;
He never could eat any breakfast, and seldom could eat any dinner.
His eyes were once bright as a star: the glaze on them now was quite ghostly;
A cloud seem'd to darken his day—lightsome and gay he'd been mostly.