Great Expectations

We basely replied that we rather thought we had noticed such a man. I

added, "He was drunk, no doubt."

"O dear no, sir," said Mr. Wopsle, "not drunk. His employer would see to

that, sir. His employer would not allow him to be drunk."

"You know his employer?" said I.

Mr. Wopsle shut his eyes, and opened them again; performing both

ceremonies very slowly. "You must have observed, gentlemen," said he,

"an ignorant and a blatant ass, with a rasping throat and a countenance

expressive of low malignity, who went through--I will not say

sustained--the rôle (if I may use a French expression) of Claudius, King

of Denmark. That is his employer, gentlemen. Such is the profession!"

Without distinctly knowing whether I should have been more sorry for Mr.

Wopsle if he had been in despair, I was so sorry for him as it was,

that I took the opportunity of his turning round to have his braces

put on,--which jostled us out at the doorway,--to ask Herbert what he

thought of having him home to supper? Herbert said he thought it would

be kind to do so; therefore I invited him, and he went to Barnard's

with us, wrapped up to the eyes, and we did our best for him, and he sat

until two o'clock in the morning, reviewing his success and developing

his plans. I forget in detail what they were, but I have a general

recollection that he was to begin with reviving the Drama, and to end

with crushing it; inasmuch as his decease would leave it utterly bereft

and without a chance or hope.

Miserably I went to bed after all, and miserably thought of Estella, and

miserably dreamed that my expectations were all cancelled, and that I

had to give my hand in marriage to Herbert's Clara, or play Hamlet to

Miss Havisham's Ghost, before twenty thousand people, without knowing

twenty words of it.