’Please your honour, under favour, and saving your honour’s presence, there’s not a word of truth in all this man has been saying from beginning to end, upon my conscience, and I wouldn’t for the value of the horse itself, grazing and all, be after telling your honour a lie.  For, please your honour, I have a dependence upon your honour that you’ll do me justice, and not be listening to him or the like of him.  Please your honour, it’s what he has brought me before your honour, because he had a spite against me about some oats I sold your honour, which he was jealous of, and a shawl his wife got at my shister’s shop there without, and never paid for; so I offered to set the shawl against the grazing, and give him a receipt in full of all demands, but he wouldn’t out of spite, please your honour; so he brought me before your honour, expecting your honour was mad with me for cutting down the tree in the horse park, which was none of my doing, please your honour—­ill-luck to them that went and belied me to your honour behind my back!  So if your honour is pleasing, I’ll tell you the whole truth about the horse that he swopped against my mare out of the face.  Last Shrove fair I met this man, Jemmy Duffy, please your honour, just at the corner of the road, where the bridge is broken down, that your honour is to have the presentment for this year—­long life to you for it!  And he was at that time coming from the fair of Gurtishannon, and I the same way.  “How are you, Jemmy?” says I.  “Very well, I thank ye kindly, Bryan,” says he; “shall we turn back to Paddy Salmon’s and take a naggin of whisky to our better acquaintance?” “I don’t care if I did, Jemmy,” says I; “only it is what I can’t take the whisky, because I’m under an oath against it for a month.”  Ever since, please your honour, the day your honour met me on the road, and observed to me I could hardly stand, I had taken so much; though upon my conscience your honour wronged me greatly that same time—­ill-luck to them that belied me behind my back to your honour!  Well, please your honour, as I was telling you, as he was taking the whisky, and we talking of one thing or t’other, he makes me an offer to swop his mare that he couldn’t sell at the fair of Gurtishannon, because nobody would be troubled with the beast, please your honour, against my horse, and to oblige him I took the mare—­sorrow take her! and him along with her!  She kicked me a new car, that was worth three pounds ten, to tatters the first time I ever put her into it, and I expect your honour will make him pay me the price of the car, anyhow, before I pay the grazing, which I’ve no right to pay at-all-at-all, only to oblige him.  But I leave it all to your honour; and the whole grazing he ought to be charging for the beast is but two and eightpence halfpenny, anyhow, please your honour.  So I’ll abide by what your honour says, good or bad.  I’ll leave it all to your honour.

I’ll leave it all to your honour—­literally means, I’ll leave all the trouble to your honour.