On the grorss below where the buttercups blow, along of the innercent sheep!
(Wildly.) I felt my brine was reeling—I'adn't a minnit to lose! [He strains forward, in agony.
With a stifled prayer, and a gasp for air, I—
[Here he suddenly becomes aware of an overlooked penny on the grass, and replaces it carefully in the hat before proceeding.
First Bystander (discussing Physical Courage with a friend). No, I never 'ad no pluck. I don't see the use of it myself—on'y gits you into rows'. (Candidly.) I'm a blanky coward, I am.
His Friend (admiringly). Give us yer 'and. Yer can't be a blankier coward than me!
The A.P. (with just pride). Oi've been wan o' the biggest libertines in this or anny other city in me toime—there's no blagardhism oi'd have put beyant me—but oi till ye this. If PARNELL was to come up to me here, now, and ask me to sheek um by the hand, oi'd say, "Shtand back, ye d——d scoundthrel!" Ah, oi would that!
Belated Orator (perorating to an embarrassed stranger on a seat before him, under a muddled impression that he is addressing a spell-bound multitude). I tell yer—yes, hevery man, and hevery woman among yer—(Here he bends forward, and touches his hearer's right and left elbow impressively) don't you go away under the impression I'm talking of what I don't understan'! (The Stranger shifts his leg and looks another way.) I speak sense, don't I? You never 'eard nothin' like this afore, any of yer, 'ave yer? That's because I read between the lines! (Waving his arm wildly.) An' I want heach man and boy of you to 'member my words, and hact upon them when the time comes!
[Here he staggers off with a proud and exalted air, to the immense relief of his hearer.
A Professional Pietist (with a modest working capital of one hymn and a nasal drone). "My richest gynes" ... (To Charitable Passer. A copper, Sir? bless your kind 'art!) "I cayount" ... (Examining it. A bloomin' French 'ap'ny!) ... "but loss; And pour contemp'" ... (Call yerself a Christian gen'lman, yer—&c.) ... "on a—a—ll my proide!"