Punch (with some symptoms of alarm). My dear sir, I beg you one thousand pardons: very sorry.
J. Ketch. Aye, you’ll be sorry enough before I’ve done with you. Don’t you know me?
Punch. Oh, sir, I know you very well, and I hope you very well, and Mrs. Ketch very well.
J. Ketch. Mr. Punch, you’re a very bad man. Why did you kill Mrs. Punch?
Punch. In self-defence.
J. Ketch. That won’t do.
Punch. She wanted to kill me.
J. Ketch. How?
Punch. With a stick.
J. Ketch. That’s all gammon. You must come to prison; my name’s Ketch.