Grocer. Squash my figs. Sand my sugar. Seize my scales.
Baker. Knead my dough. Scorch my muffins.
Auctioneer. Knock me down.
"The Players are Come!"—First Player (who has had a run of ill-luck). I'm regularly haunted by the recollection of my losses at baccarat.
Second Player. Quite Shakespearian! "Banco's ghost."
Something to Live For.—(From the Literary Club Smoking-room.) Cynicus. I'm waiting till my friends are dead, in order to write my reminiscences?
Amicus. Ah, but remember. "De mortuis nil nisi bonum."
Cynicus. Quite so. I shall tell nothing but exceedingly good stories about them.