“Babbalanja, you yourself are made up of members:—then, if you be sick of a lumbago,—’tis not you that are unwell; but your spine.”
“As you will, my lord. I have said. But to speak no more on that head —what sort of a sensation, think you, life is to such creatures as those mollusca?”
“Answer your own question, Babbalanja.”
“I will; but first tell me what sort of a sensation life is to you, yourself, my lord.”
“Pray answer that along with the other, Azzageddi.”
“Directly; but tell me, if you will, my lord, what sort of a sensation life is to a toad-stool.”
“Pray, Babbalanja put all three questions together; and then, do what you have often done before, pronounce yourself a lunatic.”
“My lord, I beseech you, remind me not of that fact so often. It is true, but annoying. Nor will any wise man call another a fool.”
“Do you take me for a mere man, then, Babbalanja, that you talk to me thus?”
“My demi-divine lord and master, I was deeply concerned at your indisposition last night:—may a loving subject inquire, whether his prince is completely recovered from the effect of those guavas?”