The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. Hogarth," replied Gay.
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