'I'm on my way, Sir, to the Mills, where my client, Mrs.Nutter (here Toole uttered a disdainful grunt), resides; and I called at your house, doctor, and they sent me here; and I am desirous to prove to you, Sir, as a friend of Miss Sarah Harty, styling herself Mrs.Nutter, that my client's rights are clear and irresistible, in order that you may use any interest you may have with that ill-advised faymale--and I'm told she respects your advice and opinion highly--to induce her to submit without further annoyance; and I tell you, in confidence, she has run herself already into a very sarious predicament.' 'Well, Sir, I'll be happy to hear you,' answered Toole.
''Tis no more, Sir, than I expected from your well-known candour,' replied Dirty Davy, with the unctuous politeness with which he treated such gentlemen as he expected to make use of.

'Now, Sir, I'll open our case without any reserve or exaggeration to you, Sir, and that, Doctor Toole, is what I wouldn't do to many beside yourself.

The facts is in a nutshell.

We claim our conjugal rights.

Why, Sir?
Because, Sir, we married the oppugnant, Charles Nutter, gentleman, of the Mills, and so forth, on the 7th of April, Anno Domini, 1750, in the Church of St.
Clement Danes, in London, of which marriage this, Sir, is a verbatim copy of the certificate.