John Bull's Other Island by George Bernard Shaw
page 12 of 165 (07%)
page 12 of 165 (07%)
|
matter on a solid English footing, though the rest can be as
Irish as you please. You must come as my--my--well, I hardly know what to call it. If we call you my agent, they'll shoot you. If we call you a bailiff, they'll duck you in the horsepond. I have a secretary already; and-- TIM. Then we'll call him the Home Secretary and me the Irish Secretary. Eh? BROADBENT [laughing industriously]. Capital. Your Irish wit has settled the first difficulty. Now about your salary-- TIM. A salary, is it? Sure I'd do it for nothin, only me cloes ud disgrace you; and I'd be dhriven to borra money from your friends: a thing that's agin me nacher. But I won't take a penny more than a hundherd a year. [He looks with restless cunning at Broadbent, trying to guess how far he may go]. BROADBENT. If that will satisfy you-- TIM [more than reassured]. Why shouldn't it satisfy me? A hundherd a year is twelve-pound a month, isn't it? BROADBENT. No. Eight pound six and eightpence. TIM. Oh murdher! An I'll have to sind five timme poor oul mother in Ireland. But no matther: I said a hundherd; and what I said I'll stick to, if I have to starve for it. BROADBENT [with business caution]. Well, let us say twelve pounds |
|