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"I see this," said Mr. Pole, "that he's a confounded rascal, and I'll know whether the law can't reach him." "Ha! ze law!" Mr. Pericles sneered. "So you are, you. English. Always, ze law! But, we are men we are not machine. Law for a machine, not a man! We punish him, perhaps. Well; he is punished. He is imprisoned forty monz. We pay for him a sossand pound a monz. He is flogged forty lashes.
And stop. We do not want pity, in ze second. Saird, we must seem to trust him, in spite. I say, yeas! What is pity to us of commerce? It is contempt. We trust him on, and we lose what he pocket a sossand. We burst on him, and we lose twenty, serty, forty; and we lose reputation." "I'd have every villain hanged," cried Mr. Pole. "The scoundrel! I'd hang him with his own hemp.
And stop. We do not want pity, in ze second. Saird, we must seem to trust him, in spite. I say, yeas! What is pity to us of commerce? It is contempt. We trust him on, and we lose what he pocket a sossand. We burst on him, and we lose twenty, serty, forty; and we lose reputation." "I'd have every villain hanged," cried Mr. Pole. "The scoundrel! I'd hang him with his own hemp.
"Pericles, have you got pluck now? Eh?" Mr. Pericles had leaned down his ear for the whole of the news. "Ten sossand," he said, smoothing his waistbands, and then inserting his thumbs into the pits of his waistcoat. "Also a chance of forty. Let us not lose time for ze music." He walked away. "I don't believe in that d -d coolness, ma'am," said Mr. Pole, wheeling round on Freshfield Sumner.
Ha! here is military music twenty sossand doors jam on horrid hinge; and right, left, right, left, to it, confound! like dolls all wiz one face. Look at your soldiers, Powys. Put zem on a stage, and you see all background people a bawling chorus. It shows to you how superior it is a stage to life! Hark to such music! I cannot stand it; I am driven away; I am violent; I rage."
Ha! here is military music twenty sossand doors jam on horrid hinge; and right, left, right, left, to it, confound! like dolls all wiz one face. Look at your soldiers, Powys. Put zem on a stage, and you see all background people a bawling chorus. It shows to you how superior it is a stage to life! Hark to such music! I cannot stand it; I am driven away; I am violent; I rage."
"I see this," said Mr. Pole, "that he's a confounded rascal, and I'll know whether the law can't reach him." "Ha! ze law!" Mr. Pericles sneered. "So you are, you. English. Always, ze law! But, we are men we are not machine. Law for a machine, not a man! We punish him, perhaps. Well; he is punished. He is imprisoned forty monz. We pay for him a sossand pound a monz. He is flogged forty lashes.
"Pericles, have you got pluck now? Eh?" Mr. Pericles had leaned down his ear for the whole of the news. "Ten sossand," he said, smoothing his waistbands, and then inserting his thumbs into the pits of his waistcoat. "Also a chance of forty. Let us not lose time for ze music." He walked away. "I don't believe in that d -d coolness, ma'am," said Mr. Pole, wheeling round on Freshfield Sumner.
We pay for him a sossand pound a lash. You can afford zat? It is a luxury like anozer. It is not for me." "How long are we to trust the villain?" said Mr. Pole. "If we trust him at all, mind! I don't say I do, or will." "Ze money is locked up for a year, my friend. So soon we get it, so soon he goes, from ze toe off." Mr.
We pay for him a sossand pound a lash. You can afford zat? It is a luxury like anozer. It is not for me." "How long are we to trust the villain?" said Mr. Pole. "If we trust him at all, mind! I don't say I do, or will." "Ze money is locked up for a year, my friend. So soon we get it, so soon he goes, from ze toe off." Mr.
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