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"We country doctors bow to our metropolitan superiors; what would you advise? You would venture, perhaps, the experiment of bleeding." "Pleed! Cott in heaven! do you think I am a putcher, an executioner? Pleed! Never." DR. DOSEWELL. "I don't find it answer, myself, when both lungs are gone! But perhaps you are for inhaling?" DR. MORGAN. "Fiddledee!"
"We country doctors bow to our metropolitan superiors; what would you advise? You would venture, perhaps, the experiment of bleeding." "Pleed! Cott in heaven! do you think I am a putcher, an executioner? Pleed! Never." DR. DOSEWELL. "I don't find it answer, myself, when both lungs are gone! But perhaps you are for inhaling?" DR. MORGAN. "Fiddledee!"
Withered, and wild in their attire, sir, but they knew a thing or two! She sees luck in your face. Cross her hand and give it vent!" "Fiddledee," said the irreverent Losely. "Take her off, or I shall scald her," and he seized the kettle.
Take this to the lawyer and tell him to unfix that hero's bayonet, or he will charge at the double and be the death of his own money and yours." Walter threw up his hands with amazement and admiration. "What a head!" said he. "Fiddledee!" said Mary; "what a heart!" "In a word, a phoenix," said Hope, dryly. "Praise is sweet, especially behind one's back.
ROLAND. "The sense of honour which conquers fear is the true courage of chivalry: you could not run away when others were looking on, no gentleman could." MR. CAXTON. "Fiddledee! It was not on my gentility that I stood, Captain. I should have run fast enough, if it had done any good. I stood upon my understanding.
ROLAND. "The sense of honour which conquers fear is the true courage of chivalry: you could not run away when others were looking on, no gentleman could." MR. CAXTON. "Fiddledee! It was not on my gentility that I stood, Captain. I should have run fast enough, if it had done any good. I stood upon my understanding.
All Frenchmen are barbers Fiddledee! don't contradict me or else dancing-masters, or else priests." And so she rattled on. "Who was it taught YOU to dance, Cousin Beatrix?" says the Colonel. She laughed out the air of a minuet, and swept a low curtsy, coming up to the recover with the prettiest little foot in the world pointed out.
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