Nightingale. Yes, Hewlett.
Hewlett. Silence in the Dormitory! Any boy who opens his mouth I'll murder him. Now, Sir, are not you the boy what can sing?
Nightingale. Yes, Hewlett.
Hewlett. Chaunt then till I go to sleep, and if I wake when you stop, you 'll have this at your head.
[Master Hewlett lays his Bluchers on the bed, ready to shy at Master Nightingale's head in the case contemplated.
Nightingale (timidly.) Please, Hewlett?
Hewlett. Well, Sir.
Nightingale. May I put on my trowsers, please? Hewlett. No, Sir. Go on, or I '11—
Nightingale,
"Through pleasures and palaces