“Putting on his spectacles to look at a married ’ooman!” said a third.

“I see him a-winkin’ at her, with his wicked old eye,” shouted a fourth.

“Look arter your wife, Pott,” bellowed a fifth⁠—and then there was a roar of laughter.

As these taunts were accompanied with invidious comparisons between Mr. Pickwick and an aged ram, and several witticisms of the like nature; and as they moreover rather tended to convey reflections upon the honour of an innocent lady, Mr. Pickwick’s indignation was excessive; but as silence was proclaimed at the moment, he contented himself by scorching the mob with a look of pity for their misguided minds, at which they laughed more boisterously than ever.

“Silence!” roared the mayor’s attendants.