Paul Clifford — Volume 04

This eBook was produced by Bryan Sherman
and David Widger
PAUL CLIFFORD, Volume 4.
By Edward Bulwer Lytton
Whackum. My dear rogues, dear boys, Bluster and Dingboy! you are the bravest fellows that ever scoured yet!—SUADWELL: Scourers.
Cato, the Thessalian, was wont to say that some things may be done unjustly, that many things may be done justly.—LORD BACON (being a, justification of every rascality).
Although our three worthies had taken unto themselves a splendid lodging in Milsom Street, which, to please Ned, was over a hairdresser's shop, yet, instead of returning thither, or repairing to such taverns as might seem best befitting their fashion and garb, they struck at once from the gay parts of the town, and tarried not till they reached a mean-looking alehouse in a remote suburb.
The door was opened to them by an elderly lady; and Clifford, stalking before his companions into an apartment at the back of the house, asked if the other gentlemen were come yet.
No, returned the dame. Old Mr. Bags came in about ten minutes ago; but hearing more work might be done, he went out again.
Bring the lush and the pipes, old blone! cried Ned, throwing himself on a bench; we are never at a loss for company!
You, indeed, never can be, who are always inseparably connected with the object of your admiration, said Tomlin, son, dryly, and taking up an old newspaper. Ned, who, though choleric, was a capital fellow, and could bear a joke on himself, smiled, and drawing forth a little pair of scissors, began trimming his nails.
Curse me, said he, after a momentary silence, if this is not a devilish deal pleasanter than playing the fine gentleman in that great room, with a rose in one's button-hole! What say you, Master Lovett?