He had been hid—I don’t pretend to say
How, nor can I indeed describe the where—
Young, slender, and packed easily, he lay,
No doubt, in little compass, round or square;
But pity him I neither must nor may
His suffocation by that pretty pair;
’Twere better, sure, to die so, than be shut
With maudlin Clarence in his Malmsey butt.