University of Virginia Library

Conjergal Rights

Conjergal rights! conjergal rights!
I don't care for the jink of her and I don't care for the jaw of her,
But I'll have the law of her.
Conjergal rights! yis, yis, I know what I'm sayin'
Fuss-rate, Misthress Corkhill, fuss-rate, Misther Cain,
And all the people in the coach—is there a man or a woman of the lot of ye—
Well now, that's what I wudn' have thought of ye,
I wudn' raelly—No, I haven' got a little sup,
Not me—is there one of ye that wudn' stand up
For conjergal rights?
No, ma'am, tight's
Not the word, not a drop since yesterday. But lizzen, good people, lizzen!
I'll have her in the coorts, I'll have her in prison—
It's the most scandalous thing you ever—What! this woman and her daughter—
It's clane murder, it's abslit manslaughter,
Aye, and I wudn' trus' but beggamy, that's what it is—Married yesterday mornin'
In Kirk Breddhan Church, and not the smallest taste of warnin',
Takes her to her house in Castletown,
And jus' for I axed a quashtin —and I'll be boun'
It's a quashtin any one of you wud have axed—picks a quarrel, makes a row,
The two of them, aye, the two of them—bow-wow!
Hammer and tungs! sends for a pleeceman, puts me to the door—
But I'll owe her! I'll owe her!
Aisy, Mr. Cretney? No, I'll not be aisy;
It's enough to make a body crazy,
That's what it is, and the supper on the table,
And the hoss in the stable.
And I said nothin', nor I done nothin'. Aw, if there's law in the land,
Law or justice, I'll have it, d'ye understand?
Do ye see the thing? My grayshurs! married is married,
Isn' it? what? and me that carried
The woman's box. And that isn' all; what raison? what sense?
Think of the expense! think of the expense!
Don't ye know? God bless me! The certif'cake, that's hafe-a-crown,
And the licence, that's five shillin', money down, money down!
And not a farlin' off for cash, these Pazons, not a farlin';
And said she was my darlin'
And all to that, guy heng! it's thrue! it's thrue!
And look at me now! boo-hoo-oo-oo!
Yis, cryin' I am, and no wondher—
You don't see me it's that dark in the coach. By the livin' thundher
I'm kilt mos'ly, that's what I am, almos' kilt
With throuble and disthress and all. A jilt,
You say, a jilt? But married, married, married, d'ye hear?
Married, Misthress Creer,
Married afore twelve at Kirk Breddhan,
Married, a reg'lar proper weddin'
And no mistake,
And this woman . . . O my gough! don't spake of her! don't spake!
It's me that's spakin'? Yis, and I will! I will!
Who's to spake if I amn'? But still—
It's lek you don't see, the coach is so dark, and no light from these houses,
But feel of this new coat, and the pair of new trousis,
Bought o' puppose, o' puppose! what else?
Bran new; and the shirt and the frells,
And the cuffs and the collar, every d---thing
As bran and as new as a gull's wing—
And all to plaze her, and to look accordin'
To the occasion, and to do her credit, and ho'rdin'
The teens of months. And O, if I'd only borrowed them from a neighbour!
That's the thing, but bought them, bought them! and even so they might ha' been chaber,
Yis, they might, at another shop. But you don' see the way I'm goin',
No, no, you don'—
But I'd lek you to—the tears! I'm jus' slushin' the sthraw
With the tears, makin' the coach all damp for the people—yis, I know I am, but I'll have the law, I'll have the law.
Just a quashtin about a bit of proppity,
The house, in fac', the very house we come into, d'ye see?
The house, her house! Of coorse! of coorse! But goodness grayshurs!
Who doesn' know the law about a thing like that? the iggorant! the ordashurs!
If ever there was a thing on God's earth
That was mine, it was yandhar house! But it isn' worth
Talkin'—no! There's people that'll go against anything.
But what! no suttlement goin' a-makin',
Nor nothin', jus' everything goin' a-takin'
Undher the common law of matrimony theer—
At my massy! at my massy! With your lave, Mr. Tear,
At my massy, sir. You'll 'scuse me.
But you know the law. Married—my chree! my chree!
What iss “married,” if that isn'? it's as plain as a dus'bin—
Your own dear lovin' husbin'
As kind as kind!
See the beauty of it! And “all that's thine is mine,”
Isn' it sayin' that in the Bible?
And surely the woman is li'ble
As well as the man; and to “love, honour, and obey,”
Isn' that what they say?
But it's my heart, that's it! my poor broken heart! aw dear! aw dear!
And my feelin's! my feelin's! and that son of mine girnin' from ear to ear,
And his lip, and his imprince, and his disrespeck,
And the waste and the neglec'—
O, it's awful! it's awful! O, the wounds that there's no healin's!
O, my feelin's! my feelin's!
But I'll see aburt, I will, I'll see aburt—
The dirt!
The wife of my bosom! Don't be mockin'!
I heard a woman laughing: its shockin'
That a woman'd laugh at the lek of such doin's, yis, it is,
Downright wickedness—
A woman that I could name—
Fie for shame! fie for shame!
But I'll have law. Look here! Is James Gell a lawyer?
You'll hardly uphould me
He isn', will ye? James Gell—the Attorney-Gineral: well, that's the man that tould me.
Did I spake to him about it? was I axin' him afore
I was anything to her?
Sartinly! my gough! was I goin' to run my neck into a noose,
And navar no 'pinion nor . . . I'm not such a goose
As yandhar ither, I've gorrit in writin', yis, I have,
I've gorrit here—aw, you'll get lave! you'll get lave!
Not aisy to read, but God bless me! where's my specs?
But lar't! lar't!
It's my feelin's: O, my heart! my heart!
My poor heart! my poor heart! boo-hoo-oo-oo! Aye, and you'd think there'd be
Some semperthy,
Some . . . Crow, open this door and let me out! there's no regard with ye
For a man's . . . I'll not ride another yard with ye . . .
Theer then! theer! No, I'll have none of your goodnights . . .
Conjergal rights! conjergal rights!