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Updated: June 7, 2025
'Cicely Elliott hath a headache, Katharine said; 'she bade me send you to her. He waited before her, helping her to adjust the wool on to her white hands, and she uttered, in a low voice: 'She hath taken my letter for me. He said, 'Why, what a' the plague's name ... and stood fingering his peaked little beard in a gentle perplexity.
But they paid for it afterwards, as I shall observe by-and-by. This, I say, made the people of Redriff and Wapping, Ratcliff and Limehouse, so secure, and flatter themselves so much with the plague's going off without reaching them, that they took no care either to fly into the country or shut themselves up.
It is noble of you to feel that way, of course. But Pevensey did not take proper care of himself, and that is all there is to it. Now I have remained in London since the Plague's outbreak. I stayed with my regiment, naturally. We have had a few deaths, of course. People die everywhere. But the Plague has never bothered me. And why has it never bothered me?
''Tis a subsidence his life, Sir, stealing away like the fluid from the clepsydra less and less left every hour a little time will measure all out. 'What the plague's a clepsydra? asked Cluffe of Toole, as they walked side by side into the club-room.
None had the courage to gather these dead for burial; they were left there to rot and create plagues. And plagues they did create. Epidemics swept away the people like flies, and the burials were conducted secretly and by night, for public funerals were not allowed, lest the revelation of the magnitude of the plague's work unman the people and plunge them into despair.
This be a wisht home-comin'! What the plague's the matter wi' us?" "Doan't 'e mind, dear heart. I'm happy as a bird under these silly tears. But 'twas the leavin' o' faither, an' him so hard, an' me lovin' him so dear, an' an' " "Doan't 'e break your heart 'bout him. He'll come round right enough. 'Twas awnly the pang o' your gwaine away, like the drawin' of a tooth."
'When were these notices served, doctor? asked Mr. Gamble. 'Not an hour ago; but, I say, who the plague's M. M.? answered Toole.
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