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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Martin Chuzzlewit"

I do not now.'
The Chorus put its hand in its waistcoat, and smiled. 'Let him go on,
my worthy sir,' it said. 'I know what you are thinking of, but don't
express it prematurely.'
Old Martin raised his eyes to Mr Pecksniff's face, and appearing to
derive renewed instruction from his looks and words, said, once again:
'Go on!'
'I have little more to say,' returned Martin. 'And as I say it now, with
little or no hope, Grandfather; whatever dawn of hope I had on entering
the room; believe it to be true. At least, believe it to be true.'
'Beautiful Truth!' exclaimed the Chorus, looking upward. 'How is your
name profaned by vicious persons! You don't live in a well, my holy
principle, but on the lips of false mankind. It is hard to bear with
mankind, dear sir'--addressing the elder Mr Chuzzlewit; 'but let us do
so meekly. It is our duty so to do. Let us be among the Few who do their
duty. If,' pursued the Chorus, soaring up into a lofty flight, 'as the
poet informs us, England expects Every man to do his duty, England is
the most sanguine country on the face of the earth, and will find itself
continually disappointed.


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