Brid. Are ye goin’ to turn out wid those blaggards?
Pat. Don’t yer be after alluding to the Garvey Musketeers as blaggards, Missus Grady. They are gintlemen; divil a wan av them works for a living.
Brid. They’re not off av the Island long enough.
Pat. Perhaps they are not cheeney enough for yer.
Brid. They’re a lot of rowdies, Pat. Why don’t you join the Father Matthy’s?
Pat. Would ye hear the woman? she’s putting on frills enough for an inspector’s wife. Wouldn’t yer like me to buy meself a little white apron an’ turn out wid the masons?
Den. Pat, can’t you listen to rayson?
Pat. Av coorse.
Den. Is it sensible or raysonable for you to be flying around wid the boys and laving your poor wife at home? Suppose some man should run off wid her.
Pat. Begorra, I’d jump on his chest till he spit blood, so I would.