In a word, it rendered him in a moment a disgusting and helpless object, unable to see or hear, almost unable to breathe, and quite unable to rid himself of the sticky, loathsome mass in which he had suddenly become encased.
Then from the window above came a shrill, jeering cry: "To your task, bold Scourers--to your task! Scour your own fine friend and comrade.

Scour him well, for he will need it.

Scour him from head to foot.

A pest upon you, young villains! I would every citizen in London would serve you the same!" Then the window above was banged to.

The mob of roisterers fled helter skelter, laughing and jeering.