[…] the prospect of exchanging his father's whitewashed and honeysuckled cottage […] for the noisy barrack […]

If a man had a sore leg, and he should go to an honest, judicious chirurgeon, and he should only bid him keep it warm, and anoint it with such an oil, (an oil well known) that would do the cure; haply he would not much regard him, because he knows the medicine, beforehand an ordinary medicine; but if he should go to a surgeon that should tell him, your leg will gangrene within three days, and it must be cut off, and you will die, unless you do something that I could tell you, what listening there would be to this man?

I must have saffron to color the warden pies; mace; dates, none -- that's out of my note; nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pounds of prunes, and as many of raisins o' th' sun.

The results were that instead of many voters wanting to turn the boat, they were soothed . . . into supporting Gillespie’s message.