In ancient Ireland the ollave, or master-poet, sat next to the king at table and was privileged, as none else but the queen was, to wear six different colours in his clothes.

a sweet face

a mixo-barbaric form of language

Eh, good evening, sir, she said to me, as she drew herself up to make the best of her own inflated bulky appearance, come and sit down here and tell me how it fares with you; but, by my troth, you are nothing but skin and bones!