Falstaff. […] they conveyed me into a buck-basket. Ford. A buck-basket! Falstaff. By the Lord, a buck-basket! rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy napkins […]

We were moochin' some pruck in a Pollock Dock shed, when he crashed to the ground and in minutes was dead.

Like one who drifts in idle boat / Unoared, and heedless whither bound […]

As soon as we ascertain what the situation is, we can plan how to proceed.