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The fellow, enraged at this contempt, flung the glass out of which he was drinking at the Spaniard's head, who sprang up like a tiger, and unsheathing instantly a snick and snee knife, made an upward cut at the fellow's cheek, and would have infallibly laid it open, had I not pulled his arm down just in time to prevent worse effects than a scratch above the lower jawbone, which, however, drew blood.
Couldn't I, though! Say, I'd just been yearnin' to crash into this affair for the last five minutes. I'd remembered Cyril. At least, I thought I had. And I proceeds to rap for order with a table-knife. "Excuse me, Mr. Snee," says I, "but you ain't been called on for a monologue.
So between ourselves we speak of him as Cyril, and to his face Well, I suppose we shall get used to saying Snee, though Why, where can he be? I've rung twice and Oh, here he comes!" And, believe me, when Doris described him as lookin' a little odd she's said sumpun. Cyril was all of that. As far as figures goes he's big and impressive enough, with sort of a dignified bulge around the equator.
Specially such a runnin' stream as this here now Cyril. But he comes to life for one faint effort. "I say, you know," he starts in, "perhaps you'd best say no more about it, Snee." "As you like, sir," says Cyril. "Only, I don't wish my feelings considered. Not in the least. If you care to send back the salad I will gladly " Westy glances appealin' towards me. "Torchy," says he, "couldn't you "
He'd brought a German shotgun with silver trimmings with him, which he called a fowling piece, and he wanted to hunt in his few leisure moments; so the boys told him all the kinds of game that run wild on the place. There was the cross-feathered snee, I remember, which was said by the bird books to be really the same as the sidehill mooney.
Not by one, Sir, but by a great many; this was a Cheesemonger they fell out over a Bottle of Brandy, went to Snicker Snee; Mr. Bellmour cut his Throat, and was hang'd for't, that's all, Sir. Bel. And did the young Lady believe this? Ral. Ralph. Bel. So, here's a hopeful Account of my sweet self now. Enter Post-man with Letters. Post. Pray, Sir, which is Sir Feeble Fainwou'd's? Bel.
Doris straightens up, brushes her eyes clear, and makes a brave stab at bein' dignified. "Snee," says she, real reprovin'. "I I beg pardon, ma'am," says Cyril, edgin' out and revealin' a broad black smooch on his shirt-front as well as a few other un-butlery signs. "Why, whatever has happened to yon?" demands Doris.
It's a one-rib affair, like an overgrown chop, and it reposes lonesome in the middle of a big silver platter. It's done, all right. Couldn't have been more so if it had been cooked in a blast-furnace. Even the bone was charred through. Westy he gazes at it in his mild, helpless way, and pokes it doubtful with the carvin'-fork. "I say, Cyr er Snee," says he, "what's this?"
"The roast, sir," says the butler. "The deuce it is!" says Westy. "Do do I use a saw or dynamite?" And he stares across at Doris inquirin'. "Snee," says Doris, her upper lip trembling "you you may take it away." "Back to the kitchen, ma'am?" asks Cyril. "Ye-es," says Doris. "Certainly." "Very well, ma'am," says Cyril, sort of tragic and mysterious.
It is a curious conglomeration, and the result is very pitiful and disastrous. Bernardine and the prison scenes are retained. Measure for Measure was again profanely altered by Gildon in 1700, mutilated and helped out by 'entertainments of music'. p. 197 Snicker Snee. See note Vol. p. 198 Spittal Sermon. Mary Spital, founded 1197.
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