"Very good—divil a betther joke ever I had," says his Riv'rence. "Come, then, Misther Pope," says he, "hould up that purty face ov yours, and answer me this question. Which 'ud be the biggest lie, if I said I seen a turkey-cock lying on the broad ov his back, and picking the stars out ov the sky, or if I was to say that I seen a gandher in the same interestin' posture, raycreating himself wid similar asthronomical expiriments? Answer me that, you ould swaddler?" says he.
"How durst you call me a swaddler, sir," says the Pope, forgetting, the dear man, the part that he was acting.
"Don't think for to bully me!" says his Riv'rence, "I always daar to spake the truth, and it's well known that you're nothing but a swaddling ould sinner of a saint," says he, never letting on to persave that his Holiness had forgot what they were agreed on.
"By all that's good," says the Pope, "I often hard ov the imperance ov you Irish afore," says he, "but I never expected to be called a saint in my own house either by Irishman or Hottentot. I'll till you what, Misther Maguire," says he, "if you can't keep a civil tongue in your head, you had betther be walking off wid yourself; for I beg lave to give you to undherstand, that it won't be for the good ov your health if you call me by sich an outprobrious epithet again," says he.
"Oh, indeed! then things is come to a purty pass," says his Riv'rence (the dear funny soul that he ever was!) "when the likes of you compares one of the Maguires ov Tempo wid a wild Ingine! Why, man alive, the Maguires was kings ov Fermanagh three thousand years afore your grandfather, that was the first of your breed that ever wore shoes and stockings" (I'm bound to say, in justice to the poor Prodesan, that this was all spoken by his Riv'rence by way ov a figure ov spache), "was sint his Majesty's arrand to cultivate the friendship of Prince Lee Boo in Botteney Bay! Oh Bryan, dear," says he, letting on to cry, "if you were alive to hear a boddagh Sassenagh like this casting up his counthry to one ov the name ov Maguire!"
"In the name ov God," says the Pope, very solemniously, "what is the meaning ov all this at all at all?" says he.
"Sure," says his Riv'rence, whispering to him across the table, "sure you know we're acting a conthravarsy, and you tuck the part of the Prodesan champion. You wouldn't be angry wid me, I'm sure, for sarving out the heretic to the best ov my ability."
"Oh begad, I had forgot," says the Pope, the good-natured ould crethur; "sure enough you were only taking your part, as a good Milesian Catholic ought, agin the heretic Sassenagh. Well," says he, "fire away now, and I'll put up wid as many conthrovarsial compliments as you plase to pay me."
"Well, then, answer me my question, you sanctimonious ould dandy," says his Riv'rence.
"In troth, then," says the Pope, "I dunna which 'ud be the biggest lie: to my mind," says he, "the one appears to be about as big a bounce as the other."