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"Se a li occhi mostri quel che fosti viva Morti lor, come te, nulla vedranno Ma le parte invisibil tue staranno. Po che del secol questa eta sia priva. Laude al pictor, ma più laude in che scriva Quello a futuri che i presenti sanno, Origin e stato e che al triseptimo anno Morte spense ogni ben che in te fioriva. Ma come excedo tua forma il pennello Exceder
Young Spense stood out pretty stiff at first; but I talked him over. Only I said nothing to Larry O'Neil or Bill Jones. I know it's of no use. They'll never agree; and if we wos to speak of it to either on 'em, he'd go right away aft an' tell the captain. Their watch below 'll come on in an hour, an' then the watch on deck'll be on our side. So, lads, go and git ready an' sharp's the word."
Aw, they wouldn't be hoult; And every trennel and every boult The best of stuff. Aw, didn' considher The 'spense nor nothin' not a fig! And three lugs at her that was the rig And raked a bit, three reg'lar scutchers, And carried her canvas like a ducherss. Chut! the trim is in the boat. Ballast away! but the trim's in the float In the very make of her! That's the trimming!"
"Der's a time for trade, and a time for gib, and you must do de genteel t'ing, and nebber consider wha's de 'spense of it, or de profit. De nigger hab he task in de cornfiel', and he hab for do um; but 'spose maussa wants he nigger to do somet'ing dat aint in he task dat's to say in de nigger own time wha' den? He pays um han'some for it.
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