“I should be glad to drink your honour’s health in

A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;

But, for my part, I never love to meddle

With politics, sir.

Friend of Humanity:

“I give thee sixpence? I’ll see thee damn’d first.

Wretch, whom no sense of wrong can rouse to vengeance!

Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,

Spiritless outcast!”

[Exit, kicking over the wheel, in a
fit of universal philanthropy.
]