Mr Cranium. Secretiveness, destructiveness, and covetiveness. You may add, if you please, that of constructiveness.
Mr Escot. Meaning, I presume, the organ of building; which I contend to be not a natural organ of the featherless biped.
Mr Cranium. Pardon me: it is here.—(As he said these words, he produced a skull from his pocket, and placed it on the table to the great surprise of the company.)—This was the skull of Sir Christopher Wren. You observe this protuberance—(The skull was handed round the table.)
Mr Escot. I contend that the original unsophisticated man was by no means constructive. He lived in the open air, under a tree.
The Reverend Doctor Gaster. The tree of life. Unquestionably. Till he had tasted the forbidden fruit.
Mr Jenkison. At which period, probably, the
organ of constructiveness was added to his anatomy, as a punishment for his transgression.
Mr Escot. There could not have been a more severe one, since the propensity which has led him to building cities has proved the greatest curse of his existence.
Squire Headlong. (taking the skull.) Memento mori. Come, a bumper of Burgundy.
Mr Nightshade. A very classical application, Squire Headlong. The Romans were in the practice of adhibiting skulls at their banquets, and sometimes little skeletons of silver, as a silent admonition to the guests to enjoy life while it lasted.