Charles. O but, my good fellow, I have very important business. You must let me go.
O’Shan. Keep back, Ma’am. Now I thinks on’t, your hood looks rather suspicious.
Charles. [Retreating a step.] Does it? A sort of robbin’ hood, I suppose. [Aside.] I wish the fellow were at Jericho.
O’Shan. And that dress was never made for you? Let me see a little closer. [Advancing.]
Charles. [Retreating. Aside.] Shall I run for my life?
O’Shan. Stop, stop, my good Lady! Methinks your dress is uncommon short, too, it hardly reaches to the clocks of your stockings.
Charles. Mind your watch, and leave my clocks alone. [Aside.] O dear! O dear! If I were but once fairly off! [Attempts to run.]
O’Shan. Stop, or I’ll shoot ye! I’ll send a bullet through your head if ye stir an inch farther.
Charles. [Aside.] I’m done for!
O’Shan. [Aside.] I’ll make sure. [Suddenly darts towards Charles and pulls back his hood.] Hillo! hillo! I’ve caught him! I’ve caught him, ’tis the man himself.