Cart-master: Bring out your dead!
[A man comes out with a dead-looking old man in a nightshirst slung over his shoulder. He starts to put the old man on the cart.]
Man: Here's one.
Cart-master: Ninepence.
Old Man: (feebly) I'm not dead!
Cart-master: (suprised) What?
Man: Nothing! Here's your ninepence...
Old Man: I'm not dead!
Cart-master: 'Ere! 'E says 'e's not dead!
Man: Yes he is.
Old Man: I'm not!
Cart-master: 'E isn't?
Man: Well... he will be soon-- he's very ill...
Old Man: I'm getting better!
Man: No you're not, you'll be stone dead in a moment.
Cart-master: I can't take 'im like that! It's against regulations!
Old Man: I don't want to go on the cart....
Man: Oh, don't be such a baby.
Cart-master: I can't take 'im....
Old Man: I feel fine!
Man: Well, do us a favor...
Cart-master: I can't!
Man: Can you hang around a couple of minutes? He won't be long...
Cart-master: No, gotta get to Robinson's, they lost nine today.
Man: Well, when's your next round?
Cart-master: Thursday.
Old Man: I think I'll go for a walk....
Man: (to old man) You're not fooling anyone, you know--
Man: (to Cart-master) Look, isn't there something you can do...?
[They both look around.]
Old Man: I feel happy! I feel happy!
The Cart-master deals the old man a swift blow to the head with his wooden spoon. The old man goes limp.
Man: (throwing the old man onto the cart) Ah. Thanks very much.
Cart-master: Not at all. See you on Thursday!
Man: Right! All right....