Oliver Twist; or, The Parish Boy's Progress • Paragraph 2761
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‘Sitch a rabbit pie, Bill,’ exclaimed that young gentleman, disclosing to view a huge pasty; ‘sitch delicate creeturs, with sitch tender limbs, Bill, that the wery bones melt in your mouth, and there’s no occasion to pick ‘em; half a pound of seven and six-penny green, so precious strong that if you mix it with biling water, it’ll go nigh to blow the lid of the tea-pot off; a pound and a half of moist sugar that the niggers didn’t work at all at, afore they got it up to sitch a pitch of goodness,--oh no! Two half-quartern brans; pound of best fresh; piece of double Glo’ster; and, to wind up all, some of the richest sort you ever lushed!’