O’Bla. (aside) Vital importance!—that is his word on all occasions. (Aloud) May be then, (oh! where was my head?) may be you would not have breakfasted all this time? and we’ve the kittle down always in this house, (rising) Pat!—Jack!—Mick!—Jenny! put the kittle down.
Mr. Carv. Sit down, sit still, my worthy fellow. Breakfasted at Bob’s Fort, as I always do.
O’Bla. But a bit of cake—a glass of wine, to refrish and replinish nature.
Mr. Carv. Too early—spoil my dinner. But what was I going to say?
O’Bla. (aside) Burn me, if I know; and I pray all the saints you may never recollect.
Mr. Carv. I recollect. How many times do you think I was stopped on horseback coming up the street of Ballynavogue?—Five times by weights and measures imperiously calling for reformation, sir. Thirteen times, upon my veracity, by booths, apple-stalls, nuisances, vagabonds, and drunken women. Pigs without end, sir—wanting ringing, and all squealing in my ears, while I was settling sixteen disputes about tolls and customs. Add to this, my regular battle every fair-day with the crane, which ought to be any where but where it is; and my perputual discoveries of fraudulent kegs, and stones in the butter! Now, sir, I only ask, can you wonder that I wipe my forehead? (wiping his forehead).
O’Bla. In troth, Mr. Carver, I cannot! But these are the pains and penalties of being such a man of consequence as you evidently are;—and I that am now going to add to your troubles too by consulting you about my little pint!
Mr. Carv. A point of law, I dare to say; for people somehow or other have got such a prodigious opinion of my law. (Takes snuff.)
O’Bla. (aside) No coming to the pint till he has finished his own panygeric.
Mr. Carv. And I own I cannot absolutely turn my back on people. Yet as to poor people, I always settle them by telling them, it is my principle that law is too expensive for the poor: I tell them, the poor have nothing to do with the laws.