Horace Rumpole: [entering Pomeroy's and seeing a pensive Erskine-Brown] Oh, what can ail thee, Erskine-Brown, alone and palely loitering?Claude Erskine-Brown: [depressed] Mmm. It's my practice, Rumpole.Horace Rumpole: [clearly enjoying the pun] Oh, still practicing? I thought you might have got the hang of it by now.
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