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Various

"Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, April 23, 1892"

Don't I? How _ought_ I to behave then?
_The Folly_. _I_ should have thought you'd jump about and howl, the
way Bedouins _do_ howl. _You_ know!
_The Bed._ (_dubiously_). Um--well, you see, my dear, I--I don't feel
_up_ to that sort of thing--_before_ supper.
_The Folly_ (_losing all respect for him_). No--nor yet after it. I
expect you've told some old four-wheel caravan to come and fetch
you home early, and you'll turn into your little tent at the usual
time--that's the sort of wild Bedouin _you_ are! Don't let me keep
you. [_She leaves him._
_The Bed._ (_alone_). If she only knew the absolute _horror_ I have of
making myself conspicuous, she wouldn't expect it!
_Mephistopheles_ (_to a Picador_). This was the only thing I could get
to go in. How do you think it suits me?
_The Picador_ (_with candour_). Well, I must say, old fellow, you _do_
look a beast!
[_Mephisto appears wounded._
_A Masker_ (_with his face painted brown, and in a costume of coloured
paper decorated with small boxes and packets, to a Blue Domino_). You
see what _I_ am, don't you? The Parcels Post! Had a _lot_ of trouble
thinking it out. Look at my face, for instance, I made _that_ up, with
string--marks and all, to look like a brown-paper parcel.
_The Blue Domino_. Pity you haven't got something _inside_ it, isn't
it?
_The Parcels Post_ (_feebly_).


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