"Oh! what robbery it is!!—throth that won't do, as cunnin' as you think yourself; you won't frighten me that way. Come, give it at wanst,—you may as well. I'll never let go my grip o' you antil you hand me out the goold."
"'Pon the honor of a gentleman, gold nor silver is not in my company. I have fourpence halfpenny in my breeches-pocket, which you are welcome to if you let go my throat."
"Fourpence hapny!!! Why, then, do you think me sitch a gom, all out, as to put me off wid fourpence hapny; throth, for three sthraws, this minit I'd thrash you within an inch o' your life for your impidence. Come, no humbuggin'; out with the goold!"
"I have no gold. Don't choke me: if you murder me, remember there's law in the land. You'd better let me go."
"Not a fut. Gi' me the goold, I tell you, you little vagabone!!" said Darby, shaking him violently.
"Don't murder me, for Heaven's sake!"
"I will murdher you if you don't give me a hatful o' goold this minit."
"A hatful of gold! Why, whom do you take me for?"
"Sure I know you're a Leprechaun, you desaiver o' the world!"
"A Leprechaun!" said the doctor, in mingled indignation and amazement. "My good man, you mistake."