? ? ? ? "But, Huck, dese kings o' ourn is regular rapscallions; dat's jist what dey is; dey's reglar rapscallions."
? ? ? ? "Well, that's what I'm a-saying; all kings is mostly rapscallions, as fur as I can make out."
? ? ? ? "Is dat so?"
? ? ? ? "You read about them once- you'll see. Look at Henry the Eight; this'n's a Sunday-School Superintendent to him. And look at Charles Second, and Louis Fourteen, and Louis Fifteen, and James Second, and Edward Second, and Richard Third, and forty more; besides all them Saxon heptarchies that used to rip around so in old times and raise Cain. My, you ought to seen old Henry the Eight when he was in bloom. He was a blossom. He used to marry a new wife every day, and chop off her head next morning. And he would do it just as indifferent as if he was ordering up eggs. 'Fetch up Nell Gwynn,' he says. They fetch her up. Next morning, 'Chop off her head!' And they chop it off. 'Fetch up Jane Shore,' he says; and up she comes. Next morning 'Chop off her head'- and they chop it off. 'Ring up Fair Rosamun.' Fair Rosamun answers the bell.
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