"My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your cheeks red for ay.

Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!" "Have ye a parrot, ma'am?
Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and give ye laughter every hour?
Buy my parrot, lady.

Just from the Gold Coast.

He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue.

Buy my parrot at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!" So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who might never have seen a salter water than the Thames.
"Powder-puffs for the face, lady," whispered a lean and weazen-faced hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy.