"O, how soft I am! 'Twon't do, I tell you. I have you, and I'll howld you; long I've been lookin' for you, and I cotch you at last, and by the tarnal o' war I'll have your life or the goold."
"My good man, be merciful—you mistake—I'm no Leprechaun; I'm Doctor Mac Finn."
"That won't do either! you think to desaive me, but 'twon't do;—just as if I didn't know a docthor from a Leprechaun. Gi' me the goold, you owld chate!"
"I tell you I'm Doctor Dionysius Mac Finn. Take care what you're about!—there's law in the land; and I think I begin to know you. Your name is Kelleher?"
"O, you cunnin' owld thief! O, then, but you are the complate owld rogue; only I'm too able for you. You want to freken me, do you? O, you little scrap o' deception, but you are deep!"
"Your name is Kelleher—I remember. My good fellow, take care; don't you know I'm Doctor Mac Finn,—don't you see I am?"
"Why thin but you have the dirty yollow pinched look iv him, sure enough; but don't I know you've only put it an you to desaive me; besides, the doctor has dirty owld tatthers o' black clothes an him, and isn't as red as a sojer, like you."
"That's an accident, my good man."
"Gi' me the goold this minit, and no more prate wid you."
"I tell you, Kelleher—"