"Not a hair I care," says Father Tom, "whether he undherstands what we're saying or not, so long as we keep off that last pint we wor discussing, and one or two others. List'ners never heard good ov themselves," says he; "and if Belzhebub takes anything amiss that aither you or me says in regard ov himself or his faction, let him stand forrid like a man, and, never fear, I'll give him his answer. Howandiver, if it's for a taste ov classic conversation you are, just to put us in mind ov ould Cordarius," says he, "here's at you;" and wid that he lets fly at his Holiness wid his health in Latin.
"Vesthræ Sanctitatis salutem volo!" says he.
"Vesthræ Revirintiæ salubritati bibo!" says the Pope to him again (faith, it's no joke, I tell you, to remimber sich a power ov larning). "Here's to you wid the same," says the Pope, in the raal Ciceronian. "Nunc poculum alterhum imple," says he.
"Cum omni jucunditate in vita," says his Riv'rence. "Cum summâ concupiscintiâ et animositate," says he; as much as to say: "Wid all the veins ov my heart, I'll do that same;" and so, wid that, they mixed their fourth gun a piece.
"Aqua vitæ vesthra sane est liquor admirabilis," says the Pope.
"Verum est pro te—it's thrue for you," says his Riv'rence, forgetting the idyim ov the Latin phrawseology, in a manner.
"Prava est tua Latinitas, domine," says the Pope, finding fault like wid his etymology.
"Parva culpa mihi," "small blame to me, that is," says his Riv'rence; "nam multum laboro in partibus interioribus," says he—the dear man! that never was at a loss for an excuse!
"Quid tibi incommodi?" says the Pope, axing him what ailed him.
"Habesne id quod Anglice vocamus, a looking-glass," says his Riv'rence.