Tom. O then Paddy, how did you end the matter?
Teag. Arra, dear shoy, by the nights of shaint Patrick and help of my brogues, I both ended it, and mended it, for the next night before that, I gave them leg bail for my fidelity, and went about the country a fortune-teller, dumb and deaf as I was not.
Tom. How old was you Paddy when you was a soldier last?
Teag. Arra, dear honey, I was three dozen all but two, and it is only two years since, so I want only four years of three dozen yet, and when I live six dozen more, I’ll be older than I am, I’ll warrant you.
Tom. O but Paddy, by your account, you are three dozen of years old already.
Teag. O what for a big fool are you now Tom, when you count the years I lay sick; which time I count no time at all.
A NEW CATECHISM, &c.
Tom. Of all the opinions professed in religion tell me now, Paddy, of what profession art thou?
Teag. Arra, dear shoy, my religion was too weighty a matter to carry out of mine own country: I was afraid that you English Presbyterians should pluck it away from me.
Tom. What, Paddy, was your religion such a load that you could not carry it along with you?