human
Some coves is uncommon proud o' themselves, mate, ain't they?-- particular them as ain't much account after all?
gpt
You're right, mate. Do you hear, Turnip? you ain't much account; you're on'y silver-plate, yer know, so you don't ought to be proud, you don't!
human
What I say, continued the pipe,
gpt
What don't I? snuffled the string.
human
Do you hear, Turnip? you're a miserable cove, you are. Why can't you be 'appy like me and my mate? We don't give ourselves hairs; that's why we're 'appy.
gpt
And, arter all, pursued the pipe,
human
Wouldn't they just! What do you think of that, Turnip? You're on'y a second-hand turnip, now, and that's all along of being stuck-up and thinking such a lot of yourself! You won't go off for thirty bob, you won't see!
gpt
Mate! exclaimed the pipe, presently (after I had had leisure to meditate on the foregoing philosophical dialogue),
human
Go it!
gpt
Why, asked the pipe, in a solemn voice,
human
Do you hear, Turnip? Why are you like a weskit that ain't paid for? Do yer give it up? I do.