His eyes so dim, so wasted each limb, that, heedless of grammar, they all cried, that's him!
– Richard Harris Barham
I was between a man and a boy, a hobble-de-hoy, a fat, little, punchy concern of sixteen.
– Richard Harris Barham
In brief, I don't stick to declare, Father Dick, so they call him for a short, is a regular brick; a metaphor taken - I have not the page aright - from an ethical work by the Stagyrite.
– Richard Harris Barham
Knight without fear and without reproach.
– Richard Harris Barham
Right as a trivet.
– Richard Harris Barham
Thrice happy's the wooing that's not long adoing. So much time is saved in the billing and cooing.
– Richard Harris Barham
'Tis not her coldness, father, that chills my laboring breast; it's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.