I was cut out to be a jazzman the way the righteous are chosen for the church.

Sheridan (no less by birth than marriage degraded below the established standard) was eventually elevated as high as the breath of lordly and ladyly adulation could bear him.

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, / Come hither from the furrow and be merry:

Woe is me, for I am undone!