“Well, but now you see, Uncle Hardy, thinking’s one thing and knowing’s another, as the fellow said; and the proof o’ the pudding’s chawin’ the bag, as the fellow said; and you see—toll-doll-diddle-de-doll-doll-day (singing and capering), you think I can’t dance? Come, Uncle Hardy, let’s dance.”
“Why, Toby!—you—come—to this? I didn’t make, you, drunk, did I? You, an’t, took, a drink, with, me, this, live, long, day—is you? I, say, is you, Toby?”
“No, Uncle Har—”
“Well, then, let’s go, take a drink.”
“Well, but you see, Uncle Hardy, drinkin’s drinkin’; but that’s neither here nor there, as the fellow said.
“ ‘Come (singing) all ye young sparkers, come listen to me,
And I’ll sing you a ditti, of a pretti ladee.’ ”
“Why, Toby! ha—ha—ha—Well, I r’ally, did, think, you, was, drunk, but, now I believe——blast the flies! I b’lieve, they, jest, as li’f, walk, in my, mouth, as, in, my nose. (Then looking with eyes half closed at Toby for several minutes.) Why, Toby, you, spit ’bacoo spit, all over, your jacket—and, that’s jist, the very, way, you, got, in your——fix.”
At this moment, Mrs. Slow came up, and immediately after, Swift’s son, William.
“Come,” said the good lady, “old man, let’s go home; it’s getting late, and there’s a cloud rising; we’ll get wet.”