I am like an old tortoise , look you , who puts his head out from the bank and draws it in again . Ay , this is the Road of Hindustan . All men come by this way ... ' ` Son of a swine , is the soft part of the road meant for thee to scratch thy back upon ? Father of all the daughters of shame and husband of ten thousand virtueless ones , thy mother was devoted to a devil , being led thereto by her mother . Thy aunts have never had a nose for seven generations ! Thy sister -- What Owl 's folly told thee to draw thy carts across the road ? A broken wheel ? Then take a broken head and put the two together at leisure ! ' The voice and a venomous whip-cracking came out of a pillar of dust fifty yards away , where a cart had broken down . A thin , high Kathiawar mare , with eyes and nostrils aflame , rocketed out of the jam , snorting and wincing as her rider bent her across the road in chase of a shouting man . He was tall and grey-bearded , sitting the almost mad beast as a piece of her , and scientifically lashing his victim between plunges . The old man 's face lit with pride . ` My child ! ' said he briefly , and strove to rein the pony 's neck to a fitting arch . ` Am I to be beaten before the police ? ' cried the carter . ` Justice ! I will have Justice -- ' ` Am I to be blocked by a shouting ape who upsets ten thousand sacks under a young horse 's nose ? That is the way to ruin a mare . ' ` He speaks truth .
He XXXXX truth .
am broken cried devoted lashing puts said shouting snorting speaks