Oak. Darn him, we’ll pitch him out of the winder!
Hor. No, no; no violence!
Tim. No, b’ys; no voilence. We’ll break his head intirely! That’s all.
Hor. He’s very particular to have everything about him quiet. I offer no suggestions. If you can manage to scare him a little, I’ve no objections.
Tim. Faith, lave us alone for that.
Oak. Come to my room, boys; we’ll fix the old skinflint! Come along.
Tim. Yaw; flint ish goot ven I fight mit Sigel.
Oak. O, never mind Seagull. Come along.
Loop. Sacre! Vat you fix his flint with? I no comprehend.
Oak. I’ll fix everything all right. Leave it to me. Come along.