At ten o’clock she was lying on the divan with her boobies in her hands. — Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer, 1934.
At which time, ſome Boobyes, weary of flight, made our Ship their pearch, an animall ſo ſimple as ſuffers any to take her without feare, as if a ſtupid ſenſe made her careleſſe of danger.