“Ah, but,” said Jaques, “that’s different; it’s not a great high stone thing, like you.”
“Not stone, and not ’igh! Is that all you know? Isn’t a glad stone always getting up in it, and ain’t the dizzy ’ights at the top? But I shan’t talk to you hany more.”
“Why not, please?” said Jaques, timidly.
“Why not! you are not a purpose, nor a heffect, nor a hend,—are you?”
“No,” said Jaques.
“Then I shan’t talk to you. When I talk I always talk to some purpose, or to some heffect, or to some hend. I like the last best. Give me some hend to talk to, and I’ll talk no hend.”
“Some end of what?” asked Norval; “is it the end of a stick, or a cigar, or what?”
“Oh, to the hend of time, or hanything. Make a hend of yourself, and you will see how I’ll talk to you then.”
FORTITER.