Moore. That’s all blazing fine, that is! But wot I ses is, wot about the chips? That’s what I ses. I’m after that thundering old Excise Office, I am. That’s my motto.
Brodie. ’Tis a very good motto, and at your lips, Badger, it kind of warms my heart. But it’s not mine.
Moore. Muck! why not?
Brodie. ’Tis too big and too dangerous. I shirk King George; he has a fat pocket, but he has a long arm. [You pilfer sixpence from him, and it’s three hundred reward for you, and a hue and cry from Tophet to the stars.] It ceases to be business; it turns politics, and I’m not a politician, Mr. Moore. (Rising.) I’m only Deacon Brodie.
Moore. All right. I can wait.
Brodie (seeing Hunt). Ha, a new face,—and with a patch! [There’s nothing under heaven I like so dearly as a new face with a patch.] Who the devil, sir, are you that own it? And where did you get it? And how much will you take for it second-hand?
Hunt. Well, sir, to tell you the truth (Brodie bows) it’s not for sale. But it’s my own, and I’ll drink your honour’s health in anything.
Brodie. An Englishman, too! Badger, behold a countryman. What are you, and what part of southern Scotland do you come from?
Hunt. Well, your honour, to tell you the honest truth—
[Brodie (bowing). Your obleeged!]