And tripping on with half-hush'd merry cries,
Look boldly back with laughter in their eyes!
VOICES
Here we are, how folk are pushing...
Mind the babby in the crushing...
Pheemy!.. Yes, John!.. Don't go staring
At that Yankee—it's past bearing.
Draw your veil down while he passes,
Reckon you're as bold as brass is.