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Book, page 171 / 485 _Mr. Carv._ But have these gentlemen no tongues of their own, madam? _Catty._ No, plase your honour, little Charley has no English tongue; he has none but the native Irish. _Mr. Carv._ Clerk, make out their examinations, with a translation; and interpret for Killaspugbrone. _Catty._ Plase your honour, I being the lady, expicted I'd get lave to swear first. _Mr. Carv._ And what would you swear, madam, if you got leave, pray?--be careful, now. _Catty._ I'll tell you how it was out o' the face, plase your honour. The whole Rooney faction-- _Mr. Carv._ _Faction!_--No such word in my presence, madam. _Catty._ Oh, but I'm ready to swear to it, plase your honour, in or out of the presence:--the whole Rooney faction--every Rooney, big or little, that was in it, was bet, and banished the town and fair of Ballynavogue, for no rason in life, by them McBrides there, them scum o' the earth. _Mr. Carv._ Gently, gently, my good lady; no such thing in my presence, as scum o' the earth. _Catty._ Well, Scotchmen, if your honour prefars. But before a Scotchman, myself would prefar the poorest spalpeen--barring it be Phil, the buckeen--I ax pardon (_curtsying_), if a buckeen's the more honourable. _Mr. Carv._ Irrelevant in toto, madam; for buckeens and spalpeens are manners or species of men unknown to or not cognizable by the eye of the law; against them, therefore, you cannot swear: but if you have any thing against Philip McBride-- _Catty._ Oh, I have plinty, and will swear, plase your honour, that he put me in bodily fear, and tore my jock, my blue jock, to tatters. Oh, by the vartue of this book (_snatching up a book_), and all the books that ever were shut or opened, I'll swear to the damage of five pounds, be the same
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