"A' hope a'm not, Mr.Fenton." "I believe, however, you happen to be both," said Fenton; "that's a fact as well known, my good fellow, as the public stocks there below; and if Madam Fame reports aright, it's a pity you should be long out of them.
Avaunt, you upstart! Before the close of your life, you will die with as many aliases as e'er a thief that ever swung from a gallows, and will deserve the swing, too, better than the thief." "A' had a right to change my name," replied the other, "when a' got into property.

A' was ashamed of my friends, because there's a great many of them poor." "Invert the tables, you misbegotten son of an elve," replied Fenton; "'tis they that are ashamed of you; there is not one among the humblest of them but would blush to name you.

So you did not uncover, as I desired you; but be it so.

You wish to let me, sir, who am a gentleman, know, and to force me to say, that there is a knave under your hat.
But come, Mr.Crackenfudge," he continued, at once, and by some unaccountable impulse, changing his manner, "come, my friend Crackenfudge, you must overlook my satire.

Thersites' mood has past, and now for benevolence and friendship.