Myles No! it’s my brother.
Corrig I know ye, my man.
Myles Then why the divil did ye ax?
Corrig You may as well answer me kindly—civility costs nothing.
Myles [L. C.] Ow now! don’t it? Civility to a lawyer manes six-and-eight-pence about.
Corrig [R. C.] What’s that on your shoulder?
Myles What’s that to you?
Corrig I am a magistrate, and can oblige you to answer.
Myles Well! it’s a boulster, belongin’ to my mother’s feather bed.
Corrig Stuff’d with whisky!