Noxus Podunkus
(Lifted to a sitting position by the Dizzards, tickled with feather-dusters, beaten with wind-bags and doused with ice-water until he opens his eyes.) What a sight!—A beautiful sight, I mean! My word! O never, my celebrated and associated Referendunces (he turns to them) have I seen so much beauty and virtue! Never! So much modesty! So much—much—everything! Really this is the worst—I mean best—I ever saw! This in itself is a complete refutation of that foul charge, once so common, that the world was in danger of not progressing. Look! Behold! O Progress, where is thy sting? (He collapses, calling for souffle, but is bolstered up and ice-water poured over him.)