{She examines the coat, holding it up to view—Mr. CARVER beckons to the Rooney party.
Mr. Carv. Beaten men! come forward.
Big Briny. Not beaten, plase your honour, only bet.
Ulick of Eliogarty. Only black eyes, plase your honour.
Mr. Carv. You, Mr. Charley or Charles Rooney, of Killaspugbrone; you have read these examinations, and are you scrupulously ready to swear?
Catty. He is, and will, plase your honour; only he’s the boy that has got no English tongue.
Mr. Carv. I wish you had none, madam, ha! ha! ha! (The two McBRIDES laugh—the ROONIES look grave.) You, Ulick Rooney, of Eliogarty, are these your examinations?
Catty. He can’t write, nor rade writing from his cradle, plase your honour; but can make his mark equal to another, sir. It has been read to him any way, sir, plase your honour.
Mr. Carv. And you, sir, who style yourself big Briny of Cloon—you think yourself a great man, I suppose?
Catty. It’s what many does that has got less rason, plase your honour.