Thou artless milk-livered miscreant! Thou rump-fed, champagne-swilling scullion! Assume a virtue if you have none! Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, for swilling champagne whilst under the Room-of-Mirabeau clock. Whether 'tis Eve of New Year or not, thy roguish intoxication will surely leave thee mark'd for vengeance by Lord Mirabeau himself!
Sir Parker dost receive five pence and a shirt of tee.