Jack—Shall I help the boys to some grog, Peter, while you are counting out our primary wages?
Peter—O yes, but don’t give them too stiff a horn, Jack, as I fear they will all get dead drunk before sundown, and then I’ll surely be defeated, as the hardest fighting will be after the poles are closed. So, boys, please drink moderately until the election is over, and fight like bull dogs till the result is declared, and then, if I am the conqueror, you can all get drunk on my toddy for a week or month.
Jack—That’s the talk. Them’s our views, an’t they, boys?
All (drinking)—Well—they are.
Peter—There, Jack, there’s your share, and now you divide the balance among your honest and noble companions.
Jack—Boys—do you hear the compliments of our candidate?
All—Well—we do, and he is a man of his word, and we’ll put him through.
Jack—(Putting all the money in his pocket)—Scissors! boys! Look down the Bowery! There come, on the full jump, about forty bullies with Ned, the murderer, at their head, screaming and beckoning his bloody gang to follow him.
Peter—O God! Stand by me, friends, or I’ll be murdered before the polls open. For Ned threatened to kill me yesterday, if I didn’t withdraw my name as a candidate. So, don’t let him and his desperate band murder me. For I’m sure they will, if you abandon me. O dear! Do stand by me, brave young gentlemen! Won’t you? Please do? (He begins to cry.)
Jack—Here they come, and they are armed with clubs, knives and pistols.