Poor Li, blushing at the monarch's reproof, waited patiently for the answer to his request.

"Ah, poor Li Po," she said, and she had grown all soft again.

Poor li'le lady, an' th' ouze they be goin' to be so small ther b'ain't no room vur zervants nor nothin'!

"Quick, quick, I am dying for air," moaned poor Li, and then, with a groan, he remembered the fisherman's affliction.