"All I can say," says his Riv'rence, "is, that I'm sinsible it was a raal accident, anyhow."
"Ay," says the Pope, "The kiss you gev Eliza, you mane."
"No," says his Riv'rence, "but the report I made."
"I don't doubt you," says the Pope.
"No cork could be dhrew with less noise," says his Riv'rence.
"It would be hard for anything to be less nor nothing, barring algebra," says the Pope.
"I can prove to the conthrary," says his Riv'rence. "This glass ov whisky is less nor that tumbler ov punch, and that tumbler ov punch is nothing to this jug of scaltheen."
"Do you judge by superficial misure or by the liquid contents?" says the Pope.
"Don't stop me betuxt my premisses and my conclusion," says his Riv'rence; "Ergo, this glass ov whisky is less nor nothing; and for that raison I see no harm in life in adding it to the contents ov the same jug, just by way ov a frost-nail."