Larry [coming down on Mat promptly].  I’ll tell you, Mat.  I always thought it was a stupid, lazy, good-for-nothing sort of thing to leave the land in the hands of the old landlords without calling them to a strict account for the use they made of it, and the condition of the people on it.  I could see for myself that they thought of nothing but what they could get out of it to spend in England; and that they mortgaged and mortgaged until hardly one of them owned his own property or could have afforded to keep it up decently if he’d wanted to.  But I tell you plump and plain, Mat, that if anybody thinks things will be any better now that the land is handed over to a lot of little men like you, without calling you to account either, they’re mistaken.

Matthew [sullenly].  What call have you to look down on me?  I suppose you think you’re everybody because your father was a land agent.

Larry.  What call have you to look down on Patsy Farrell?  I suppose you think you’re everybody because you own a few fields.

Matthew.  Was Patsy Farrll ever ill used as I was ill used? tell me dhat.

Larry.  He will be, if ever he gets into your power as you were in the power of your old landlord.  Do you think, because you’re poor and ignorant and half-crazy with toiling and moiling morning noon and night, that you’ll be any less greedy and oppressive to them that have no land at all than old Nick Lestrange, who was an educated travelled gentleman that would not have been tempted as hard by a hundred pounds as you’d be by five shillings?  Nick was too high above Patsy Farrell to be jealous of him; but you, that are only one little step above him, would die sooner than let him come up that step; and well you know it.

Matthew [black with rage, in a low growl].  Lemme oura this. [He tries to rise; but Doran catches his coat and drags him down again] I’m goin, I say. [Raising his voice] Leggo me coat, Barney Doran.

Doran.  Sit down, yowl omadhaun, you. [Whispering] Don’t you want to stay an vote against him?

Father Dempsey [holding up his finger] Mat! [Mat subsides].  Now, now, now! come, come!  Hwats all dhis about Patsy Farrll?  Hwy need you fall out about him?

Larry.  Because it was by using Patsy’s poverty to undersell England in the markets of the world that we drove England to ruin Ireland.  And she’ll ruin us again the moment we lift our heads from the dust if we trade in cheap labor; and serve us right too!  If I get into parliament, I’ll try to get an Act to prevent any of you from giving Patsy less than a pound a week [they all start, hardly able to believe their ears] or working him harder than you’d work a horse that cost you fifty guineas.

Doran.  Hwat!!!

Cornelius [aghast].  A pound a—­God save us! the boy’s mad.

Matthew, feeling that here is something quite beyond his powers, turns openmouthed to the priest, as if looking for nothing less than the summary excommunication of Larry.