Gentlemen may cry, Dishsoap, Dishsoap — but there is no dishsoap. The plates are in the sink! The next meal that sweeps off the table will bring to our ears the clash of greasy plates! Their brethren are already piling up! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of dishsoap? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me clean dishes or give me death!
Would you settle for paper plates?