At a great word she will her poynard draw, Looke for the pincke if once thou giue the lye.
[…] He's arguably the best pitcher on the Mets, the preening sportswriter writes, aspiring to Parnassus, which Red Smith reached by never using words like arguably.
He's arguably the best pitcher on the Mets,
arguably.
I have, by the salomon, a doxy that carries a kinchin mort in her slate at her back, besides my dell and my dainty wild dell, with all whom I'll tumble this next darkmans in the strommel […]
You judas, you cow-handed poltroon, we thought you were a stallion.
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