If you were a fellow that knew when he had enough, I could bear the calamity of keeping you at all.

But that's a subject, God help you, and God help me too that has to suffer for it, on which your ignorance is wonderful.

To know when to stop so long as the blessed victuals is before you is a point of polite knowledge you will never reach, you immaculate savage.

Not a limb about you but you'd give six holidays to out of the seven, barrin' your walrus teeth, and, if God or man would allow you the fodder, you'd give us an elucidation of the perpetual motion.

Be off, and get the strongest set of rings that Jemmy M'Quade can make for those dirty, grubbing bastes of pigs.