She would go sweetly in a steeple-chase, if she didn't break her heart with impatience before the start.

But on the road she is impossible.

If you make her walk, she is all over lather in five minutes, and she'd spoil that sweet habit with flecks of foam.

My lady has a way of tossing her head, and covering you all over with white streaks." "She wants soothing," suggested Miss Clifford.
"Nay, miss.

She wants bleeding o' Sundays, and sweating over the fallows till she drops o' week-days.