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Updated: May 12, 2025
He's got a lock of my hair now I gave it him when he was Papa's chaplain; and let me tell you it would be a hard matter to find another now in the same place." "Law, my Lady!" says I, "you don't say so?" "But indeed I do, my good sir," says she; "for between ourselves, my head's as bare as a cannon-ball ask Fanny if it isn't.
"Good God!" replied Morton, "I have heard of scarcity, but not of famine! It is possible? Have the ladies and the Major" "They hae suffered like the lave o' us," replied Jenny; "for they shared every bit and sup wi' the whole folk in the Castle I'm sure my poor een see fifty colours wi' faintness, and my head's sae dizzy wi' the mirligoes that I canna stand my lane."
"Of course you will! What! after laughing like that?" "Ugh!" Hippias grunted, "I daresay, Richard, you sleep the moment you get into bed!" "The instant my head's on my pillow, and up the moment I wake. Health's everything!" "Health's everything!" echoed Hippias, from his immense distance. "And if you'll put yourself in my hands," Richard continued, "you shall do just as I do.
But as lang as siller's current, Deacon, folk maunna look ower nicely at what king's head's on't. 'I doubt Glossin will prove but shand after a', mistress, said Jabos, as he passed through the little lobby beside the bar; 'but this is a gude half-crown ony way.
Her head's as full of nonsense now as an egg is of meat, an' she wouldn't know a broom from a clothes-wringer after she'd been philandering round a couple of months with people that are never satisfied unless they're peeking into something they can't understand. 'But I guess we'll have to spare Pauline, said Mr Harding.
It seems to me that old Bewley's head's getting soft, unless he's getting so hard-up that he's glad to take anybody's money to keep the old mathematical musical-box going, or else he wouldn't have taken a nigger to be put in the same rank with English gentlemen." "Here, you had better mind," said Burney. "Why?" snapped out Slegge. "Because you will have old Glyn hear you." "Pooh!
His poor head's that moidered and mixed it's like a black pudding there's no saying what's inside of it. But he's good, though; aw, right good he is for all, and the world's cold and cruel. Lave him alone, woman; lave him alone, poor boy."
In the mane time try and make out where your vagabone of a husband lives, or, rather, set Ginty to work, as she and you are living together, and no doubt she'll soon ferret him out." "I can't understand Ginty at all," replied the woman. "I think, although she has given up fortune tellin', that her head's not altogether right yet.
"I hope I have not hurt you much." "I'm hard put to it to stand. How are you?" "My head's singin' like a kettle. It was the rain that helped me." "Yes, I thought I had you beat one time. I never wish a better battle." "Nor me either. Good-bye." And so those two brave-hearted fellows made their way amidst the yelping roughs, like two wounded lions amidst a pack of wolves and jackals.
I'll match him for the ale! be quickly in and answer to thy part; and, marry, boy, don't miss thy cues, or tsst, thy head's not worth a peascod!" With that he clapped his hand upon his poniard and glared into Nick's eyes, as if to look clear through to the back of the boy's wits. Nick heard his white teeth grind, and was all at once very much afraid of him, for he did indeed look dreadful.
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