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