plays [10]
than that, black-guardly as it was, I enjoyed the doing. He is
my friend. He had dined with me that day, and I felt like a man
in a story. I climbed his wall, I crawled along his pantry roof,
I mounted his window-sill. That one turn of my wrist - you know
it I - and the casement was open. It was as dark as the pit, and
I thought I'd won my wager, when, phewt! down went something
inside, and down went somebody with it. I made one leap, and was
off like a rocket. It was my poor friend in person; and if he'd
caught and passed me on to the watchman under the window, I
should have felt no viler rogue than I feel just now.
MOORE. I s'pose he knows you pretty well by this time?
BRODIE. 'Tis the worst of friendship. Here, Kirsty, fill these
glasses. Moore, here's better luck - and a more honourable
plant! - next time.
MOORE. Deacon, I looks towards you. But it looks thundering
like rotten eggs, don't it?
BRODIE. I think not. I was masked, for one thing, and for
another I was as quick as lightning. He suspects me so little
that he dined with me this very afternoon.
MOORE. Anyway, you ain't game to try it on again, I'll lay odds
on that. Once bit, twice shy. That's your motto.
BRODIE. Right again. I'll put my ALIBI to a better use. And,
Badger, one word in your ear: there's no Newcastle Jemmy about
ME. Drop the subject, and for good, or I shall drop you. (HE
RISES, AND WALKS BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS, A LITTLE UNSTEADILY.
THEN RETURNS, AND SITS L., AS BEFORE.)
SCENE II
To these, HUNT, disguised He is disguised as a 'flying stationer'
with a patch over his eye. He sits at table opposite BRODIE'S
and is served with bread and cheese and beer.
HAMILTON (FROM BEHIND). The deevil tak' the cairts!
AINSLIE. Hoot, man, dinna blame the cairts.
MOORE. Look here, Deacon, I mean business, I do. (HUNT LOOKS UP
AT THE NAME OF 'DEACON.')
BRODIE. Gad, Badger, I never meet you that you do not. [You
have a set of the most commercial intentions!] You make me
blush.
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!]
HUNT. I knows a gentleman when I sees him, your honour [and, to
tell your honour the truth -
BRODIE. JE VOUS BAISE LES MAINS! (BOWING.)]
HUNT. A gentleman as is a gentleman, your honour [is always a
gentleman, and to tell you the honest truth] -
BRODIE. Great heavens! answer in three words, and be hanged to
you! What are you, and where are you from?
HUNT. A patter-cove from Seven Dials.
BRODIE. Is it possible? All my life long have I been pining to
meet with a patter-cove from Seven Dials! Embrace me, at a
distance. [A patter-cove from Seven Dials!] Go, fill yourself
as drunk as you dare, at my expense. Anything he likes, Mrs.
Clarke. He's a patter-cove