Master Paul, your health!" "But, O longest of mortals!" said Paul, refilling his glass, "though the public may allow you to eat your mutton off their backs for a short time, they will kick up at last, and upset you and your banquet; in other words (pardon my metaphor, dear Ned, in remembrance of the part I have lately maintained in 'The Asinaeum,' that most magnificent and metaphorical of journals!),--in other words, the police will nab thee at last; and thou wilt have the distinguished fate, as thou already hast the distinguishing characteristic, of Absalom!" "You mean that I shall be hanged," said Long Ned, "that may or may not be; but he who fears death never enjoys life.

Consider, Paul, that though hanging is a bad fate, starving is a worse; wherefore fill your glass, and let us drink to the health of that great donkey, the people, and may we never want saddles to ride it!" "To the great donkey," cried Paul, tossing off his bumper; "may your (y)ears be as long! But I own to you, my friend, that I cannot enter into your plans.

And, as a token of my resolution, I shall drink no more, for my eyes already begin to dance in the air; and if I listen longer to your resistless eloquence, my feet may share the same fate!" So saying, Paul rose; nor could any entreaty, on the part of his entertainer, persuade him to resume his seat.
"Nay, as you will," said Pepper, affecting a nonchalant tone, and arranging his cravat before the glass,--"nay, as you will.

Ned Pepper requires no man's companionship against his liking; and if the noble spark of ambition be not in your bosom, 't is no use spending my breath in blowing at what only existed in my too flattering opinion of your qualities.

So then, you propose to return to MacGrawler (the scurvy old cheat!), and pass the inglorious remainder of your life in the mangling of authors and the murder of grammar?
Go, my good fellow, go! scribble again and forever for MacGrawler, and let him live upon thy brains instead of suffering thy brains to--" "Hold!" cried Paul.