speaking loud.

"No, nor our lips," said Mohi, smacking his over his wine.

"But could you really be disembodied here in Mardi, Babbalanja, how
would you fancy it?" said Media.

"My lord," said Babbalanja, speaking through half of a nectarine,
"defer putting that question, I beseech, till after my appetite is
satisfied; for, trust me, no hungry mortal would forfeit his palate,
to be resolved into the impalpable."

"Yet pure spirits we must all become at last, Babbalanja," said Yoomy,
"even the most ignoble."

"Yes, so they say, Yoomy; but if all boors be the immortal sires of
endless dynasties of immortals, how little do our pious patricians
bear in mind their magnificent destiny, when hourly they scorn their
companionship. And if here in Mardi they can not abide an equality
with plebeians, even at the altar; how shall they endure them, side by
side, throughout eternity? But since the prophet Alma asserts, that
Paradise is almost entirely made up of the poor and despised, no
wonder that many aristocrats of our isles pursue a career, which,
according to some theologies, must forever preserve the social
distinctions so sedulously maintained in Mardi. And though some say,
that at death every thing earthy is removed from the spirit, so that
clowns and lords both stand on a footing; yet, according to the
popular legends, it has ever been observed of the ghosts of boors when
revisiting Mardi, that invariably they rise in their smocks. And
regarding our intellectual equality here, how unjust, my lord, that