Punch.—Oh, my poor wife and sixteen small children! most of them twins, and the oldest only three years of age.
Hangman.—Now, Mr. Punch, you are ordered for instant execution.
Punch.—What’s that?
Hangman.—You are to be hanged by the neck till you are dead! dead! dead!
Punch.—What! three times?
Hangman.—No; once will be enough. Place your head in the centre of this noose.
Punch.—Stop a bit; I haven’t made my will.
Hangman.—We can’t help that. Come, put your head in.
Punch (putting his head one side of the noose).—Where? There?
Hangman.—No; higher up.