human
ROSIE. I don't want it. I don't want anything to do with love. Love's a nasty, naughty, wicked boy, and the sooner he's put in convict-clothes and refused a ticket-of-leave, the better.
gpt
I fell into a most unquiet sleep. I thought I saw Cliqueteaux, the old croupier, who died of love for me--of that and a complication of other disorders. A man that was a genius, with a wart on his nose. It was hereditary--the genius, not the wart, etc. Now this may be
human
but it is not dramatic. It reminds one of the most forced passages of Artemas Ward's generally fresh and unforced humor. But perhaps the worst instance in all Robertson's play of this pitiful sacrifice of situation and character to a petty
gpt
is found in _Caste_. Sam Gerridge, a gas-fitter and plumber, desiring to marry Polly, the daughter of Eccles, a drunken old brute, tells him so, casually mentioning that to prove his affection he will do anything he can in
human
This captivates the heart of old Eccles, who joins the hands of the young couple, saying with a drunken leer,
gpt
Samuel Gerridge, she is thine. Samuel Gerridge, you shall be 'er 'usband! I don't know a gas_fitter_ man!