A Gentleman with a bloated complexion (critically). 'Ooever did that—well, I dessay he's a very clever man, but—(compassionately)—he don't know much about 'orrors, he don't!
A Facetious Friend. You could ha' told him a thing or two, eh, JIM?
The Bloated Gentleman (contemptuously). Well, if I never 'ad them wuss than that!
[A small skeleton, in a shroud, looks in at the door.
The F.F. 'Ullo, 'ere's the King o' Terrors for yer! (ROSY shows signs of uneasiness; a blue demon comes out of a cupboard.) 'Ere's another of 'em—quite a little party he's 'aving!
A Gentleman, in a white tie (as the machinery stops). Well, a thing like this does more real good than many a temperance tract.
The Bloated G. Yer right there, Guv'nor—it's bin a lesson to me, I know that. 'Ere, will you come and 'ave a whiskey-sour along of me and my friend 'ere'?
BEFORE A MODEL REPRESENTING AN EXECUTION.
A Daughter. But why won't you 'put a penny into this one, Father?
The Father (firmly). Because I don't approve of Capital Punishment, my dear.