deal of brandy - G. S. and Co.'s celebrated Nantz.

BRODIE. What! does he buy that smuggled trash of yours?

SMITH. Well, we don't call it smuggled in the trade, Deakin.
It's a wink, and King George's picter between G. S. and the
Nunks.

BRODIE. Gad! that's worth knowing. O Procurator, Procurator, is
there no such thing as virtue? [ALLONS! It's enough to cure a
man of vice for this world and the other.] But hark you hither,
Smith; this is all damned well in its way, but it don't explain
what brings you here.

SMITH. I've trapped a pigeon for you.

BRODIE. Can't you pluck him yourself?

SMITH. Not me. He's too flash in the feather for a simple
nobleman like George Lord Smith. It's the great Capting
Starlight, fresh in from York. [He's exercised his noble art all
the way from here to London. 'Stand and deliver, stap my
vitals!'] And the north road is no bad lay, Deakin.

BRODIE. Flush?

SMITH (MIMICKING). 'The graziers, split me! A mail, stap my
vitals! and seven demned farmers, by the Lard - '

BRODIE. By Gad!