Mr. T. This is a very intricate affair.
M’L. Sure, won’t I be after telling you my own story:—as I was going my rounds quietly enough, up comes these young sparks, and gave me such a maulagaran, that they knock’d me into the middle of next week—besides tipping me this here black eye—only see how red it is!
Mr. T. I’ll soon set all to rights,—first let me hear what you have to say to all this, woman: these are very serious allegations. (To Mrs. Tartar).
Tom. Aye, aye, let the woman speak.
O’Booz. Oh, the woman will speak fast enough.
Mrs. T. Hold your tongue fellow.—Please your worship, it’s all false from beginning to end—it’s he that’s drunk! nay, you may perceive he’s so drunk he cannot even give a charge—doesn’t know one person from the other, and can scarcely stand.
M’L. Plaise your honour it’s only the ague, I have it every Saturday night regularly, what I’ve said is all true, so help me Bob,—sure, she’s not a woman to put whiskey in a jug, and throw stones at it.
Mr. T. Why, you impudent vagabond you’re drunk now—instead of giving charge of her, the good lady ought to have given charge of you,—what business had you off your beat, and in such a situation?
Tom and Jerry. Aye, what business had you off your beat, old Charley?
M’L. They bate me off my beat.