A rare fools' General commanding wit and oozing in hot blood till grave Sagehood crook the knee and lower the head to preeminence! This dialogue is right contumely of Gravity! — for the laughs!

DERMOT: Have ears my son, Fergus, was wed not this two or three hours gone?

HODDYPEAK: But now, indeed! God save his godhead, if he be gored tonight, and head to a bitter melancholy; failing at matadory! Yet more, God keep him from hanging in a fortnight, and rest his good soul the next! – For, certes, he’ll not escape hanging a twotime!

DERMOT: Fie on thee, bracken! Pick thou loopholes in holy matrimony? Remembrance yet lives, I knew your father till he was married!

HODDYPEAK: Ay, wager it, so was he; he was marred! Look thou on him no more, for thereforth leaps at friend not familiarity more – but stranger friendlier, old friendly surly! He is but troughed in the slops! Nothing marking of him but the fetorous malodour! – A thing ill-kiltered!

DERMOT: Your mother was so sweet face; can bitter bad bide such bounteous bloom bedizened? She was bad for him?

HODDYPEAK: Good, much the rather, and so exceeding all returns!...

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