O. _retires._) There, we shall get along
better without '_im_. 'Ow long are you goin' to keep me 'ere? Upon my word
an' honour, it's enough to sicken a man to see what the world's come to!
Where's yer courage? Where's yer own common sense? Where's your faith in
'umin nature? What do yer _expect_? (_Scathingly._) Want me to wrop it up
in a porcel, and send it 'ome for yer? Is _that_ what yer waitin' for!
Dammy, if this goes on, I shall git wild, and take and give the bloomin'
purse a bath! (_The_ Simple Spectator _feels in his pockets--evidently for
a half-crown_.) 'Ere, _you_ look more intelligent than the rest--I'll try
yer jest this once. Jest to show yer don't know me, and--(_Shouts of
"They're off! They're coming!" from the bank; the_ Purse-seller's _audience
suddenly melts away, leaving him alone with the_ Seedy Slinker.) 'Ere, JIM,
we may as well turn it up. 'Ere come them blanky boats!
_A Juvenile Plunger_ (_with rather a complicated book on the event_). If
Oxford wins, I've got ter git a penny out of 'im, and if Kimebridge wins,
you've got ter git a penny outer _me_!
_Crowd_ (_as the Crews flash by_). Go it, Oxford! Ox--ford! No, Kimebridge!
Well rowed, Kimebridge!... Oxford wins! No, it don't.
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