Have you any objection to walk along into the fields?
The fields, my dear, bring out all the poetry of my nature.
Where's the dog?
Here, Puggy! Puggy! hunt about, my man, and find some dog-grass.

Does his inside good, you know, after a meat diet in London.
Lord! how I feel my spirits rising in this fine air! Does my complexion look any brighter, miss?
Will you run a race with me, Mr.Moody, or will you oblige me with a back at leap-frog?
I'm not mad, my dear young lady; I'm only merry.

I live, you see, in the London stink; and the smell of the hedges and the wild flowers is too much for me at first.

It gets into my head, it does.

I'm drunk! As I live by bread, I'm drunk on fresh air! Oh! what a jolly day! Oh! how young and innocent I do feel!" Here his innocence got the better of him, and he began to sing, "I wish I were a little fly, in my love's bosom for to lie!" "Hullo! here we are on the nice soft grass! and, oh, my gracious! there's a bank running down into a hollow! I can't stand that, you know.