On the contrary, you rather hoist me up for self abuse there ...
. . . . . . . . . . . . . Friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum
For ending thee no sooner. (MM)
'Then you should say what you mean,' the March Hare went on. 'I do,' Alice hastily replied; 'at least - at least I mean what I say - that's the same thing , you know.' 'Not the same thing a bit!' said the Hatter.
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