'I thought, sir,' answered Nigel, with as much haughtiness as was consistent with the cool distance he desired to preserve, 'I thought I had told you, my name was Nigel Grahame.'His eminence of Whitefriars on this burst into a loud, chuckling, impudent laugh, repeating the word, till his voice was almost inarticulate, - 'Niggle Green - Niggle Green - Niggle Green! why, my lord, you would be queered in the drinking of a penny pot of Malmsey, if you cry before you are touched.'
1822, Walter Scott, chapter XXIII, in The Fortunes of Nigel