“Oh! see the suds he makes!” cried Flask, dancing up and down⁠—“What a hump⁠—Oh, do pile on the beef⁠—lays like a log! Oh! my lads, do spring⁠—slap-jacks and quahogs for supper, you know, my lads⁠—baked clams and muffins⁠—oh, do , do , spring⁠—he’s a hundred barreller⁠—don’t lose him now⁠—don’t oh, don’t !⁠—see that Yarman⁠—Oh, won’t ye pull for your duff, my lads⁠—such a sog! such a sogger! Don’t ye love sperm? There goes three thousand dollars, men!⁠—a bank!⁠—a whole bank! The bank of England!⁠—Oh, do , do , do !⁠—What’s that Yarman about now?”