Dennis. [Running to the Cupboard.] Eat and drink, my jewel; and my discourse shall serve for the seasoning. Drink now, my pretty one! [Fills a Glass.] for you have had nothing, I'll be bound.—Och, by the powers! I know the ways of ould mother Brulgruddery.
Mrs. Brul. Old mother Brulgruddery!
Dennis. Don't mind her;—take your prog;—she'd starve a saint.
Mrs. Brul. I starve a saint!
Dennis. Let him stop at the Red Cow, as plump as a porker, and you'd send him away, in a week, like a weasel.—Bite maccaroony, my darling!
[Offering the Plate to Mary.
Mary. I thank you.
Dennis. 'Faith, no merit of mine; 'twas the butler that stole it:—take some. [Lets the Plate fall.] Slips by St. Patrick!
Mrs. Brul. [Screaming.] Our best china plate broke all to shivers!
Dennis. Delf, you deceiver; delf. The cat's dining dish, rivetted.