A lady proud she was, of antient blood, Yet oft her fear, her pride made crouchen low: She felt, or fancy'd in her fluttering mood, All the diseases which the spitals know, And sought all physic which the shops bestow; And still new leaches, and new drugs would try, Her humour ever wavering too and fro; For sometimes she would laugh, and sometimes cry, And sudden waxed wroth, and all she knew not why.
"The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753),Vol. V."
Theophilus Cibber
I should be very glad to receive a letter from you if it can be conveniently forwarded-in short 'Non sum qualis eram' as Partridge says in Tom Jones-My hair is grown like a mop, and I have a huge tuft of beard directly upon my chin-I want but five weeks of twenty-one years of age and already feel stiff with age-We have about 30 Students in this academy, who prey upon me like leaches-'When shall I quit this whimpering pack, and hide my head in Acomack?
"The Poems of Philip Freneau, Volume I (of III)"
Philip Freneau
We say it leaches and is hungry, and so it is, because it has little power to retain water.
"Soil Culture"
J. H. Walden