They've really made you King.

By gosh! they must have rum taste." "The great Bishops of the Middle Ages," said Quin, kicking his legs in the air, as he was dragged up more or less upside down, "were in the habit of refusing the honour of election three times and then accepting it.

A mere matter of detail separates me from those great men.

I will accept the post three times and refuse it afterwards.

Oh! I will toil for you, my faithful people! You shall have a banquet of humour." By this time he had been landed the right way up, and the two men were still trying in vain to impress him with the gravity of the situation.
"Did you not tell me, Wilfrid Lambert," he said, "that I should be of more public value if I adopted a more popular form of humour?
And when should a popular form of humour be more firmly riveted upon me than now, when I have become the darling of a whole people?
Officer," he continued, addressing the startled messenger, "are there no ceremonies to celebrate my entry into the city ?" "Ceremonies," began the official, with embarrassment, "have been more or less neglected for some little time, and--" Auberon Quin began gradually to take off his coat.
"All ceremony," he said, "consists in the reversal of the obvious.
Thus men, when they wish to be priests or judges, dress up like women.
Kindly help me on with this coat." And he held it out.
"But, your Majesty," said the officer, after a moment's bewilderment and manipulation, "you're putting it on with the tails in front." "The reversal of the obvious," said the King, calmly, "is as near as we can come to ritual with our imperfect apparatus.