"Webber is a man of first-rate capacity; and were he only to apply, I am not certain to what eminence his abilities might raise him.

Come, Collisson, any three angles of a triangle are equal to--are equal to--what are they equal to ?" Here he yawned as though he would dislocate his jaw.
"Any three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles," said Collisson, in the usual sing-song tone of a freshman.
As he proceeded to prove the proposition, his monotonous tone seemed to have lulled the doctor into a doze, for in a few minutes a deep, long-drawn snore announced from the closed curtains that he listened no longer.

After a little time, however, a short snort from the sleeper awoke him suddenly, and he called out, "Go on, I'm waiting.

Do you think I can arouse at this hour of the morning for nothing but to listen to your bungling?
Can no one give me a free translation of the passage ?" This digression from mathematics to classics did not surprise the hearers, though it somewhat confused them, no one being precisely aware what the line in question might be.
"Try it, Nesbitt,--you, O'Malley.

Silent all?
Really this is too bad!" An indistinct muttering here from the crowd was followed by an announcement from the doctor that the speaker was an ass, and his head a turnip! "Not one of you capable of translating a chorus from Euripides,--'Ou, ou, papai, papai,' etc.; which, after all, means no more than, 'Oh, whilleleu, murder, why did you die!' etc.