True! But a good drop o' stout, or better still "spirits"
makes many things easy. 'Tis the seed o' pluck,
so to speak. I'm feelin' just a little queer about the
nerves. I think I'll have a drop o' "Wise's."

[_Exit Mrs. Cotter. While she is away he fills his pipe_.

MRS. COTTER (_entering with drink_)
That's like the noise of a row down the road.

SERGEANT
Erra, let 'em row away! The Head is prowlin' about.
Let him separate 'em. 'Tis about time he did somethin'
for his livin'. 'Tis a damn shame to have the
poor rate payers supportin' the likes of him.

MRS. COTTER
I wouldn't be talkin' like that, Sergeant.

SERGEANT
Why wouldn't I talk? There's as many Head Constables
as clergy in the country, an' only for the sergeants
an' an odd constable 'tis unknown what 'ud
happen!

MRS. COTTER
The Head is a dacent gentleman.

SERGEANT
You don't know anythin' about him. Grumblin' about