The cabman scratched his head. Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that.

[…] I walked lustily in the park by moonshine till eight, to shake off my dinner and wine; […]

Our Polly is a sad Slut! nor heeds what we have taught her.

In a free-market economy there will always be more cash customers for Schwarzeneggeresque tales of violent conflict...