And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
SHAKS.: _As You Like It,_ Act ii., Sc. 7.
Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule,
The village master taught his little school;
A man severe he was, and stern to view,--
I knew him well, and every truant knew;
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
GOLDSMITH: _Des. Village,_ Line 193.