I spoke to him earlier.

[…] wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.

There were a thousand and one gems of café-chatter, of tit-for-tattle – of score-offs and well-rubbed-ins.

Internet Hindus and fans of Narendra Modi would bury you six feet under and do a gravedance on your grave with surreal pleasure!