Don't say it don't do good.

Don't say it.

I know better!' 'I don't think it does,' said Mrs Jarley.
'Ha, ha!' cried Mr Slum, 'you're giving way, you're coming down.

Ask the perfumers, ask the blacking-makers, ask the hatters, ask the old lottery-office-keepers--ask any man among 'em what my poetry has done for him, and mark my words, he blesses the name of Slum.

If he's an honest man, he raises his eyes to heaven, and blesses the name of Slum--mark that! You are acquainted with Westminster Abbey, Mrs Jarley ?' 'Yes, surely.' 'Then upon my soul and honour, ma'am, you'll find in a certain angle of that dreary pile, called Poets' Corner, a few smaller names than Slum,' retorted that gentleman, tapping himself expressively on the forehead to imply that there was some slight quantity of brain behind it.