"Oh, he's a fine pote certainly, but he's not moral, sir; and I'm afeard to let my daughter read such combustibles."
"But he's grand," said Reddy; "for instance—
'She walks in beauty like the night.'
How fine!"
"But how wicked!" said Mrs. Riley. "I don't like that night-walking style of poetry at all, so say no more about it; we'll talk of something else. You admire music, I'm sure."
"I adore it, ma'am."
"Do you like the piano?"
"Oh, ma'am! I could live under a piano."
"My daughter plays the piano beautiful."
"Charmingly."