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John Bull's Other Island by George Bernard Shaw
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
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