"A journeyman carpenter, please your worship."
"You must say my lord—say my lord," interposed the bombasin gown.
"Speak out. Si-lence!"
"Where do you live?"
"Friar's Place—please you, my lord." The bombasin smiled pitifully at the ignorance of the witness, and said no more.
"Do you know the prisoner at the bar?"
"About ten weeks ago—please you, my lord, I was hired by the landlord—"
"Answer his lordship, sir," exclaimed the counsel for the prosecution in a tone of thunder. "Never mind the landlord. Do you know the prisoner?"
"Why, I was a saying, please you, my lord, about ten weeks ago I was hired by the landlord—"
"Answer directly, sir," continued the animated barrister—"or take the consequences. Do you know the prisoner?"
"Let him tell his story his own way, Mr Nailhim," interposed his lordship blandly. "We shall sooner get to the end of it."