The Prince and The Pauper by Mark Twain Chapter 13 Page 11

“Just then the crowd lapped them up and closed them in, and I saw no more, being called by my master, who was in a rage because a joint that the scrivener had ordered was forgot, though I take all the saints to witness that to blame me for that miscarriage were like holding the unborn babe to judgment for sins com — ”

“Out of my sight, idiot!

Thy prating drives me mad! Hold! Whither art flying? Canst not bide still an instant? Went they toward Southwark?”

“Even so, your worship — for, as I said before, as to that detestable joint, the babe unborn is no whit more blameless than — ”

“Art here yet! And prating still! Vanish, lest I throttle thee!” The