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'[...] I always loved that boy as if he'd been my - my - my own grandfather,' said Mr. Bumble, halting for an appropriate comparison.

'Are you going to sit snoring there all day?' inquired Mrs. Bumble.
'I am going to sit here as long as I think proper, Ma'am,' rejoined Mr. Bumble; 'and although I was not snoring, I shall snore, gape, sneeze, laugh, or cry, as the humour strikes me, such being my prerogative.'
'Your prerogative;' sneered Mrs. Bumble, with ineffable contempt.
'I said the word, Ma'am,' said Mr. Bumble. 'The prerogative of a man is to command.'
'And what's the prerogative of a woman, in the name of Goodness?' cried the relict of Mr. Corney deceased.
'To obey, Ma'am,' thundered Mr. Bumble. 'Your late unfort'nate husband should have taught it you; and then, perhaps, he might have been alive now. I wish he was, poor man!'

CHAPTER XXXVII
In which the reader may perceive a contrast, not uncommon in matrimonial cases

The Doctor seemed especially troubled by the fact that the robbery having been unexpected, and attempted in the night-time, as if it were the established custom of gentlemen in the housebreaking way to transact business at noon, and to make an appointment, by the twopenny post, a day or two previous.

But death, fires, and burglary make all men equals; [...]

‘Did she drink the hot wine the doctor said she was to have?’ demanded the first.

‘I tried to get it down,’ rejoined the other; ‘but her teeth were tight set, and she clenched the mug so hard that it was as much as I could do to get it back again. So I drank it, and it did me good!’

[…] This is the port wine, Ma’am, that the board offered for the infirmary – real, fresh genuine port wine, only out of the cask this forenoon; clear as a bell, and no sediment.’

‘Oh, come in with you!’ said Mrs. Corney sharply. ‘Some of the old women dying I suppose. They always die when I’m at meals. […].

for there are a great many ladies and gentlemen, claiming to be out-and-out Christians, between whom and Mr. Sikes' dog there exist very strong and singular points of resemblance.

Mr. Fagin concluded by drawing a rather disagreeable picture of the discomforts of hanging, and, with great friendliness and politeness of manner, expressed his anxious hopes that he might never be obliged to submit Oliver Twist to that unpleasant operation.