Q. What makes you of the rabble?
A. Nothin’ makes me; got nothin’; that’s why nothin’ does it.
Q. What is your place in the world?
A. Got no place by rights; only what the gentlefolks is so kind—heaven bless ’em—is so kind to grant me.
Q. What are your duties in life?
A. My duties is to pay duties on ’bacca, and on whatsomever there may be put upon—tea and beer and so forth—and ax no questions.
Q. Have you any voice at elections?
A. Yes: when I hollars.
Q. But you have no vote?
A. In course not. ’Cause I’m one o’ the rabble.