Put thy scruples in thy pocket, man, and mount thy pale horse." "Not I!" he said, with a smile.

"'T is a thousand pities, Captain Percy, that a small, mean, and squeamish spirit like mine should be cased like a very Guy of Warwick.

Now, if I were slight of body, or even if I were no heavier than your servant there"-- "Oh!" I said.

"Diccon, give his reverence the mare, and do you mount his horse and bring him slowly on to town.

If he will not carry you, you can lead him in." Sunshine revisited the countenance of Master Jeremy Sparrow; he swung his great body into the saddle, gathered up the reins, and made the mare to caracole across the path for very joy.
"Have a care of the poor brute, friend!" he cried genially to Diccon, whose looks were of the sulkiest.