behind the bench].

They are all now seated, except Larry; and the session assumes a
portentous air, as if something important were coming.

CORNELIUS. Props you'll explain, Father Dempsey.

FATHER DEMPSEY. No, no: go on, you: the Church has no politics.

CORNELIUS. Were yever thinkin o goin into parliament at all,
Larry?

LARRY. Me!

FATHER DEMPSEY [encouragingly] Yes, you. Hwy not?

LARRY. I'm afraid my ideas would not be popular enough.

CORNELIUS. I don't know that. Do you, Barney?

DORAN. There's too much blatherumskite in Irish politics a dale
too much.

LARRY. But what about your present member? Is he going to retire?

CORNELIUS. No: I don't know that he is.

LARRY [interrogatively]. Well? then?

MATTHEW [breaking out with surly bitterness]. We've had enough of
his foolish talk agen lanlords. Hwat call has he to talk about
the lan, that never was outside of a city office in his life?

CORNELIUS. We're tired of him. He doesn't know hwere to stop.
Every man can't own land; and some men must own it to employ
them. It was all very well when solid men like Doran and me and
Mat were kep from ownin land. But hwat man in his senses ever
wanted to give land to Patsy Farrll an dhe like o him?

BROADBENT. But surely Irish landlordism was accountable for what
Mr Haffigan suffered.

MATTHEW. Never mind hwat I suffered. I know what I suffered
adhout you tellin me. But did I ever ask for more dhan the farm I
made wid me own hans: tell me that, Corny Doyle, and you that
knows. Was I fit for the responsibility or was I not? [Snarling
angrily at Cornelius] Am I to be compared to Patsy Farrll, that
doesn't harly know his right hand from his left? What did he ever
suffer, I'd like to know?

CORNELIUS. That's just what I say. I wasn't comparin you to your
disadvantage.

MATTHEW [implacable]. Then hwat did you mane be talkin about
givin him lan?

DORAN. Aisy, Mat, aisy. You're like a bear with a sore back.

MATTHEW [trembling with rage]. An who are you, to offer to taitch
me manners?

FATHER DEMPSEY [admonitorily]. Now, now, now, Mat none o dhat.
How often have I told you you're too ready to take offence where
none is meant? You don't understand: Corny Doyle is saying just
what you want to have said. [To Cornelius] Go on, Mr Doyle; and
never mind him.

MATTHEW [rising]. Well, if me lan is to be given to Patsy and his
like, I'm goin oura dhis. I--

DORAN [with violent impatience] Arra who's goin to give