Quakebuttock

See what theſe times are grown to, before twenty / I ruſh'd into the world, which is indeed / Much like the Art of ſwiming, he that will attain to't / Muſt fall plump, and duck himſelf at firſt, / And that will make him hardy and advent'rous, / And not ſtand putting in one foot, and ſhiver, / And then draw t'other after, like a quake-buttock; [...]

Not fitting speech, Kor. Quakebuttock, some would have called him. Coward. But I knew he was no coward, and though I wanted to rail at him in anger, heartache would not let me. Not yet.

From hurtful facts I fain won't hide / (I'm not that quakebuttock, weak type who'd / Turn face from fear: I never shied / From vulgar verities others shooed), [...]

And looking back, it seemed to Jim that he had never prayed for himself at all but for this other boy that his mind's eye watched, a rawney-looking molly of a boy, the son of a quakebuttock, a coward himself, praying that he should hear his calling and join the brothers like Our Lady wished and not to be so inconsiderate.

Have pity on we poor wretched sinners / We blatherskites and lopdoodles / Lickspiggots and clinchpoops / Quibberdicks and Quakebuttocks.

'You really do look like you're going to cry,' Em replied (with her mouth). 'Are you sure you're all right?' / 'Yes!' I insisted. 'I'm not a complete quakebuttock, you know!' / Yes! (Quakebuttock is a new word I learned weeks ago and have been meaning to slip into conversation ever since.)