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    Act III

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    Chapter 4
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    SCENE I.

    An Apartment in Mr. CARVER'S House. Mr. CARVER seated: a table, pens, ink, paper, and law-books. A cleric, pen in hand.--On the right-hand side of Mr. CARVER stands Mrs. CATTY ROONEY.--RANDAL ROONEY beside her, leaning against a pillar, his arms folded.--Behind Mrs. ROONEY, three men--one remarkably tall, one remarkably little.--On the left-hand of Mr. CARVER stand Old MATTHEW McBRIDE, leaning on his stick; beside him, PHILIP McBRIDE, with his silver-hilted whip in his hand.--A Constable at some distance behind Mr. CARVER'S chair.--Mr. CARVER looking over and placing his books, and seeming to speak to his clerk.

    Catty. (aside to her son) See I'll take it asy, and be very shivel and sweet wid him, till I'll see which side he'll lane, and how it will go with us Roonies--(Mr. CARVER rising, leans forward with both his hands on the table, as if going to speak, looks round, and clears his throat loudly.)--Will I spake now, plase your honour?

    Old McB. Dacency, when you see his honour preparing his throat.

    [Mr. CARVER clears his throat again.

    Catty. (curtsying between each sentence) Then I ixpect his honour will do me justice. I got a great character of his honour. I'd sooner come before your honour than any jantleman in all Ireland. I'm sure your honour will stand my frind.

    Clerk. Silence!

    Mr. Carv. Misguided people of Ballynavogue and Ballynascraw--

    [At the instant Mr. CARVER pronounces the word "Ballynavogue," CATTY curtsies, and all the ROONIES, behind her, bow, and answer--

    Here, plase your honour.

    [And when Mr. CARVER says "Ballynascraw," all the McBRIDES bow, and reply--

    Here, plase your honour.

    Mr. Carv. (speaking with pomposity, but embarrassment, and clearing his throat frequently) When I consider and look round me, gentlemen, and when I look round me and consider, how long a period of time I have had the honour to bear his majesty's commission of the peace for this county--

    Catty. (curtsying) Your honour's a good warrant, no doubt.

    Mr. Carv. Hem!--hem!--also being a residentiary gentleman at Bob's Fort--hem!--hem!--hem!--(Coughs, and blows his nose.)

    Catty. (aside to her son) Choking the cratur is with the words he can't get out. (Aloud) Will I spake now, plase your honour?

    Clerk. Silence! silence!

    Mr. Carv. And when I consider all the ineffectual attempts I have made by eloquence and otherwise, to moralize and civilize you gentlemen, and to eradicate all your heterogeneous or rebellious passions--

    Catty. Not a rebel, good or bad, among us, plase your honour.

    Clerk. Silence!

    Mr. Carv. I say, my good people of Ballynavogue and Ballynascraw, I stand here really in unspeakable concern and astonishment, to notice at this fair-time in my barony, these symptoms of a riot, gentlemen, and features of a tumult.

    Catty. True, your honour, see--scarce a symptom of a fature lift in the face here of little Charley of Killaspugbrone, with the b'ating he got from them McBrides, who bred the riot, entirely under Flourishing Phil, plase your honour.

    Mr. Carv. (turning to PHIL McBRIDE.) Mr. Philip McBride, son of old Matthew, quite a substantial man,--I am really concerned, Philip, to see you, whom I looked upon as a sort of, I had almost said, gentleman--

    Catty. Gentleman! what sort? Is it because of the new topped boots, or by virtue of the silver-topped whip, and the bit of a red rag tied about the throat?--Then a gentleman's asy made, now-a-days.

    Young McB. It seems 'tis not so asy any way, now-a-days, to make a gentlewoman, Mrs. Rooney.

    Catty. (springing forward angrily) And is it me you mane, young man?

    Randal. Oh! mother, dear, don't be aggravating.

    Mr. Carv. Clerk, why don't you maintain silence?

    Catty. (pressing before her son) Stand back, then, Randal Rooney--don't you hear silence?--don't be brawling before his honour. Go back wid yourself to your pillar, or post, and fould your arms, and stand like a fool that's in love, as you are.--I beg your honour's pardon, but he's my son, and I can't help it.--But about our examinations, plase your honour, we're all come to swear--here's myself, and little Charley of Killaspugbrone, and big Briny of Cloon, and Ulick of Eliogarty--all ready to swear.

    Mr. Carv. But have these gentlemen no tongues of their own, madam?

    Catty. No, plase your honour, little Charley has no English tongue; he has none but the native Irish.

    Mr. Carv. Clerk, make out their examinations, with a translation; and interpret for Killaspugbrone.

    Catty. Plase your honour, I being the lady, expicted I'd get lave to swear first.

    Mr. Carv. And what would you swear, madam, if you got leave, pray?--be careful, now.

    Catty. I'll tell you how it was out o' the face, plase your honour. The whole Rooney faction--

    Mr. Carv. Faction!--No such word in my presence, madam.

    Catty. Oh, but I'm ready to swear to it, plase your honour, in or out of the presence:--the whole Rooney faction--every Rooney, big or little, that was in it, was bet, and banished the town and fair of Ballynavogue, for no rason in life, by them McBrides there, them scum o' the earth.

    Mr. Carv. Gently, gently, my good lady; no such thing in my presence, as scum o' the earth.

    Catty. Well, Scotchmen, if your honour prefars. But before a Scotchman, myself would prefar the poorest spalpeen--barring it be Phil, the buckeen--I ax pardon (curtsying), if a buckeen's the more honourable.

    Mr. Carv. Irrelevant in toto, madam; for buckeens and spalpeens are manners or species of men unknown to or not cognizable by the eye of the law; against them, therefore, you cannot swear: but if you have any thing against Philip McBride--

    Catty. Oh, I have plinty, and will swear, plase your honour, that he put me in bodily fear, and tore my jock, my blue jock, to tatters. Oh, by the vartue of this book (snatching up a book), and all the books that ever were shut or opened, I'll swear to the damage of five pounds, be the same more or less.

    Mr. Carv. My good lady, more or less will never do.

    Catty. Forty shillings, any way, I'll swear to; and that's a felony, your honour, I hope?

    Mr. Carv. Take time, and consult your conscience conscientiously, my good lady, while I swear these other men--

    [She examines the coat, holding it up to view--Mr. CARVER beckons to the Rooney party.

    Mr. Carv. Beaten men! come forward.

    Big Briny. Not beaten, plase your honour, only bet.

    Ulick of Eliogarty. Only black eyes, plase your honour.

    Mr. Carv. You, Mr. Charley or Charles Rooney, of Killaspugbrone; you have read these examinations, and are you scrupulously ready to swear?

    Catty. He is, and will, plase your honour; only he's the boy that has got no English tongue.

    Mr. Carv. I wish you had none, madam, ha! ha! ha! (The two McBRIDES laugh--the ROONIES look grave.) You, Ulick Rooney, of Eliogarty, are these your examinations?

    Catty. He can't write, nor rade writing from his cradle, plase your honour; but can make his mark equal to another, sir. It has been read to him any way, sir, plase your honour.

    Mr. Carv. And you, sir, who style yourself big Briny of Cloon--you think yourself a great man, I suppose?

    Catty. It's what many does that has got less rason, plase your honour.

    Mr. Carv. Understand, my honest friend, that there is a vast difference between looking big and being great.

    Big Briny. I see--I know, your honour.

    Mr. Carv. Now, gentlemen, all of you, before I hand you the book to swear these examinations, there is one thing of which I must warn and apprize you--that I am most remarkably clear-sighted; consequently there can be no thumb kissing with me, gentlemen.

    Big Briny. We'll not ax it, plase your honour.

    Catty. No Rooney, living or dead, was ever guilty or taxed with the like! (Aside to her son) Oh, they'll swear iligant! We'll flog the world, and have it all our own way! Oh, I knew we'd get justice--or I'd know why.

    Clerk. Here's the book, sir, to swear complainants.

    [Mr. CARVER comes forward.

    Mr. Carv. Wait--wait; I must hear both sides.

    Catty. Both sides! Oh, plase your honour--only bother you.

    Mr. Carv. Madam, it is my duty to have ears for all men.--Mr. Philip, now for your defence.

    Catty. He has none in nature, plase your honour.

    Mr. Carv. Madam, you have had my ear long enough--be silent, at your peril.

    Catty. Ogh--ogh!--silent!

    [She groans piteously.

    Mr. Carv. Sir, your defence, without any preamble or pre-ambulation.

    Phil. I've no defence to make, plase your honour, but that I'm innocent.

    Mr. Carv. (shaking his head) The worst defence in law, my good friend, unless you've witnesses.

    Phil. All present that time in the fair was too busy fighting for themselves to witness for me that I was not; except I'd call upon one that would clear me entirely, which is that there young man on the opposite side.

    Catty. Oh, the impudent fellow! Is it my son?

    Old McB. Is it Randal Rooney? Why, Phil, are you turned innocent?

    Phil. I am not, father, at all. But with your lave, I call on Randal Rooney, for he is an undeniable honourable man--I refer all to his evidence.

    Randal. Thank you, Phil. I'll witness the truth, on whatever side.

    Catty rushes in between them, exclaiming, in a tremendous tone,

    If you do, Catty Rooney's curse be upon--

    Randal stops her mouth, and struggles to hold his mother back.

    Oh, mother, you couldn't curse!--

    [All the ROONIES get about her and exclaim,

    Oh, Catty, your son you couldn't curse!

    Mr. Carv. Silence, and let me be heard. Leave this lady to me; I know how to manage these feminine vixens. Mrs. Catherine Rooney, listen to me--you are a reasonable woman.

    Catty. I am not, nor don't pretend to it, plase your honour.

    Mr. Carv. But you can hear reason, madam, I presume, from the voice of authority.

    Catty. No, plase your honour--I'm deaf, stone deaf.

    Mr. Carv. No trifling with me, madam; give me leave to advise you a little for your good.

    Catty. Plase your honour, it's of no use--from a child up I never could stand to be advised for my good. See, I'd get hot and hotter, plase your honour, till I'd bounce! I'd fly! I'd burst! and myself does not know what mischief I mightn't do.

    Mr. Carv. Constable! take charge of this cursing and cursed woman, who has not respect for man or magistrate. Away with her out of my presence!--I commit her for a contempt.

    Randal (eagerly) Oh! plase your honour, I beg your honour's pardon for her--my mother--entirely. When she is in her rason, she has the greatest respect for the whole bench, and your honour above all. Oh! your honour, be plasing this once! Excuse her, and I'll go bail for her she won't say another word till she'd get the nod from your honour.

    Mr. Carv. On that condition, and on that condition only, I am willing to pass over the past. Fall back, constable.

    Catty. (aside) Why then, Gerald O'Blaney mislet me. This Carver is a fauterer of the Scotch. Bad luck to every bone in his body! (As CATTY says this her son draws her back, and tries to pacify her.)

    Mr. Carv. Is she muttering, constable?

    Randal. Not a word, plase your honour, only just telling herself to be quiet. Oh, mother, dearest, I'll kneel to plase you.

    Catty. Kneel! oh, to an ould woman like me--no standing that! So here, on my hunkers I am, for your sake, Randal, and not a word, good or bad! Can woman do more? (She sits with her fingers on her lips.)

    Mr. Carv. Now for your defence, Philip: be short, for mercy's sake! (pulling out his watch.)

    Phil. Not to be detaining your honour too long--I was in Ballynavogue this forenoon, and was just--that is, Miss Car'line Flaherty was just--

    Mr. Carv. Miss Caroline Flaherty! What in nature can she have to do with the business?

    Phil. Only axing me, sir, she was, to play the flageolets, which was the rason I was sitting at Flaherty's.

    Mr. Carv. Address yourself to the court, young man.

    Phil. Sitting at Flaherty's--in the parlour, with the door open, and all the McBrides which was in it was in the outer room taking a toombler o' punch I trated 'em to--but not drinking--not a man out o' the way--when in comes that gentlewoman. (Pointing to Mrs. ROONEY.--RANDAL groans.) Never fear, Randal, I'll tell it as soft as I can.

    Old McB. Soft, why? Mighty soft cratur ever since he was born, plase your honour, though he's my son.

    Mr. Carv. (putting his fingers on his lips) Friend Matthew, no reflections in a court of justice ever. Go on, Philip.

    Phil. So some one having tould Mrs. Rooney lies, as I'm confident, sir--for she come in quite mad, and abused my sister Honor; accusing her, before all, of being sitting and giving her company to Randal Rooney at Flaherty's, drinking, and something about a ring, and a meeting behind the chapel, which I couldn't understand;--but it fired me, and I stepped--but I recollected I'd promised Honor not to let her provoke me to lift a hand good or bad--so I stepped across very civil, and I said to her, says I, Ma'am, it's all lies--some one has been belying Honor McBride to you, Mrs. Rooney.

    [CATTY sighs and groans, striking the back of one hand reiteratedly into the palm of the other--rises--beats the devil's tattoo as she stands--then claps her hands again.

    Mr. Carv. That woman has certainly more ways of making a noise, without speaking, than any woman upon earth. Proceed, Philip.

    Phil. Depind on it, it's all lies, Mrs. Rooney, says I, ma'am. No, but you lie, flourishing Phil, says she. With that every McBride to a man, rises from the table, catching up chairs and stools and toomblers and jugs to revenge Honor and me. Not for your life, boys, don't let-drive ne'er a one of yees, says I--she's a woman, and a widow woman, and only a scould from her birth: so they held their hands; but she giving tongue bitter, 'twas hard for flesh and blood to stand it. Now, for the love of heaven and me, sit down all, and be quite as lambs, and finish your poonch like gentlemen, sir, says I: so saying, I tuk Mrs. Rooney up in my arms tenderly, as I would a bould child--she screeching and screeching like mad:--whereupon her jock caught on the chair, pocket-hole or something, and give one rent from head to fut--and that was the tattering of the jock. So we got her to the door, and there she spying her son by ill-luck in the street, directly stretches out her' arms, and kicking my shins, plase your honour, till I could not hold her, "Murder! Randal Rooney," cries she, "and will you see your own mother murdered?"

    Randal. Them were the very words, I acknowledge, she used, which put me past my rason, no doubt.

    Phil. Then Randal Rooney, being past his rason, turns to all them Roonies that were in no condition.

    Mr. Carv. That were, what we in English would call drunk, I presume?

    Randal. Something very near it, plase your honour.

    Phil. Sitting on the bench outside the door they were, when Randal came up. "Up, Roonies, and at 'em!" cried he; and up, to be sure, they flew, shillelahs and all, like lightning, daling blows on all of us McBrides: but I never lifted a hand; and Randal, I'll do him justice, avoided to lift a hand against me.

    Randal. And while I live I'll never forget that hour, nor this hour, Phil, and all your generous construction.

    Catty. (aside) Why then it almost softens me; but I won't be made a fool on.

    Mr. Carv. (who has been re-considering the examinations) It appears to me that you, Mr. Philip McBride, did, as the law allows, only lay hands softly upon complainant, Catherine Rooney; and the Rooneys, as it appears, struck, and did strike, the first blow.

    Randal. I can't deny, plase your honour, we did.

    Mr. Carv. (tearing the examinations) Then, gentlemen--you Roonies--beaten men, I cannot possibly take your examinations.

    [When the examinations are torn, the McBRIDES all bow and thank his honour.

    Mr. Carv. Beaten men! depart in peace.

    The ROONIES sigh and groan, and after turning their hats several times, bow, walk a few steps away, return, and seem loath to depart. CATTY springs forward, holding up her hands joined in a supplicating attitude to Mr. CARVER.

    Randal. If your honour would be plasing to let her spake now, or she'd burst, may be.

    Mr. Carv. Speak now, woman, and ever after hold your tongue.

    Catty. Then I am rasonable now, plase your honour; for I'll put it to the test--see, I'll withdraw my examinations entirely, and I'll recant--and I'll go farther, I'll own I'm wrong--(though I know I'm right)--and I'll beg your pardon, McBrides, if--(but I know I'll not have to beg your pardon either)--but I say I will beg your pardon, McBrides, if, mind if, you will accept my test, and it fails me.

    Mr. Carv. Very fair, Mrs. Rooney.

    Old McB. What is it she's saying?

    Phil. What test, Mrs. Rooney?

    Randal. Dear mother, name your test.

    Catty. Let Honor McBride be summoned, and if she can prove she took no ring, and was not behind the chapel with Randal, nor drinking at Flaherty's with him, the time she was, I give up all.

    Randal. Agreed, with all the pleasure in life, mother. Oh, may I run for her?

    Old McB. Not a fut, you sir--go, Phil dear.

    Phil. That I will, like a lapwing, father.

    Mr. Carv. Where to, sir--where so precipitate?

    Phil. Only to fetch my sister.

    Mr. Carv. Your sister, sir?--then you need not go far: your sister, Honor McBride, is, I have reason to believe, in this house.

    Catty. So. Under whose protection, I wonder?

    Mr. Carv. Under the protection of Mrs. Carver, madam, into whose service she was desirous to engage herself; and whose advice--

    Clerk. Shall I, if you please, sir, call Honor in?

    Mr. Carv. If you please.

    [A silence.--CATTY stands biting her thumb.--Old McBRIDE leans his chin upon Us hands on his stick, and never stirs, even his eyes.--Young McBRIDE looks out eagerly to the side at which HONOR is expected to enter--RANDAL looking over his shoulder, exclaims--

    There she comes!--Innocence in all her looks.

    Catty. Oh! that we shall see soon. No making a fool of me.

    Old McB. My daughter's step--I should know it. (Aside) How my old heart bates!

    [Mr. CARVER takes a chair out of the way.

    Catty. Walk in--walk on, Miss Honor. Oh, to be sure, Miss Honor will have justice.

    Enter HONOR McBRIDE, walking very timidly.

    And no need to be ashamed, Miss Honor, until you're found out.

    Mr. Carv. Silence!

    Old McB. Thank your honour.

    [Mr. CARVER whispers to his clerk, and directs him while the following speeches go on.

    Catty. That's a very pretty curtsy, Miss Honor--walk on, pray--all the gentlemen's admiring you--my son Randal beyant all.

    Randal. Mother, I won't bear--

    Catty. Can't you find a sate for her, any of yees? Here's a stool--give it her, Randal. (HONOR sits down.) And I hope it won't prove the stool of repentance, Miss or Madam. Oh, bounce your forehead, Randal--truth must out; you've put it to the test, sir.

    Randal. I desire no other for her or myself.

    [The father and brother take each a hand of HONOR--support and soothe her.

    Catty. I'd pity you, Honor, myself, only I know you a McBride--and know you're desaving me, and all present.

    Mr. Carv. Call that other witness I allude to, clerk, into our presence without delay.

    Clerk. I shall, sir. [Exit clerk.

    Catty. We'll see--we'll see all soon--and the truth will come out, and shame the dibbil and the McBrides!

    Randal. (looking out) The man I bet, as I'm a sinner!

    Catty. What?--Which?--Where?--True for ye!--I was wondering I did not see the man you bet appear again ye: and this is he, with the head bound up in the garter, coming--miserable cratur he looks--who would he be?

    Randal. You'll see all soon, mother.

    Enter PAT COXE, his head bound up.

    Mr. Carv. Come on--walk on boldly, friend.

    Catty. Pat Coxe! saints above!

    Mr. Carv. Take courage, you are under my protection here--no one will dare to touch you.

    Randal (with infinite contempt) Touch ye! Not I, ye dirty dog!

    Mr. Carv. No, sir, you have done enough that way already, it appears.

    Honor. Randal! what, has Randal done this?

    Mr. Carv. Now observe--this Mr. Patrick Coxe, aforesaid, has taken refuge with me; for he is, it seems, afraid to appear before his master, Mr. O'Blaney, this night, after having been beaten: though, as he assures me, he has been beaten without any provocation whatsoever, by you, Mr. Randal Rooney--answer, sir, to this matter.

    Randal. I don't deny it, sir--I bet him, 'tis true.

    Pat. To a jelly--without marcy--he did, plase your honour, sir.

    Randal. Sir, plase your honour, I got rason to suspect this man to be the author of all them lies that was tould backwards and forwards to my mother, about me and Miss Honor McBride, which made my mother mad, and driv' her to raise the riot, plase your honour. I charged Pat with the lies, and he shirked, and could give me no satisfaction, but kept swearing he was no liar, and bid me keep my distance, for he'd a pocket pistol about him. "I don't care what you have about you--you have not the truth about ye, nor in ye," says I; "ye are a liar, Pat Coxe," says I: so he cocked the pistol at me, saying, that would prove me a coward--with that I wrenched the pistol from him, and bet him in a big passion. I own to that, plase your honour--there I own I was wrong (turning to HONOR), to demane myself lifting my hand any way.

    Mr. Carv. But it is not yet proved that this man has told any lies.

    Randal. If he has tould no lies, I wronged him. Speak, mother--(COXE gets behind CATTY, and twitches her gown), was it he who was the informer, or not?

    Catty. Nay, Pat Coxe, if you lied, I'll not screen you; but if you tould the truth, stand out like a man, and stand to it, and I'll stand by you, against my own son even, Randal, if he was the author of the report. In plain words, then, he, Pat Coxe, tould me, that she, Honor McBride, gave you, Randal Rooney, the meeting behind the chapel, and you gave her the ring--and then she went with you to drink at Flaherty's.

    Honor. (starting up) Oh! who could say the like of me?

    Catty. There he stands--now, Pat, you must stand or fall--will you swear to what you said? (Old McBRIDE and PHIL approach PAT.)

    Mr. Carv. This is not the point before me; but, however, I waive that objection.

    Randal. Oh! mother, don't put him to his oath, lest he'd perjure himself.

    Pat. I'll swear: do you think I'd be making a liar of myself?

    Honor. Father--Phil dear--hear me one word!

    Randal. Hear her--oh! hear her--go to her.

    Honor. (in a low voice) Would you ask at what time it was he pretends I was taking the ring and all that?

    Old McB. Plase your honour, would you ask the rascal what time?

    Mr. Carv. Don't call him rascal, sir--no rascals in my presence. What time did you see Honor McBride behind the chapel, Pat Coxe?

    Pat. As the clock struck twelve--I mind--by the same token the workmen's bell rang as usual! that same time, just as I seen Mr. Randal there putting the ring on her finger, and I said, "There's the bell ringing for a wedding," says I.

    Mr. Carv. To whom did you say that, sir?

    Pat. To myself, plase your honour--I'll tell you the truth.

    Honor. Truth! That time the clock struck twelve and the bell rang, I was happily here in this house, sir.

    Honor. If I might take the liberty to call one could do me justice.

    Mr. Carv. No liberty in justice--speak out.

    Honor. If I might trouble Mrs. Carver herself?

    Mr. Carv. Mrs. Carver will think it no trouble (rising with dignity) to do justice, for she has been the wife to one of his majesty's justices of the peace for many years.

    [Sends a servant for Mrs. CARVER.

    Mr. Carv. Mrs. Carver, my dear, I must summon you to appear in open court, at the suit or prayer of Honor McBride.

    Enter Mrs. CARVER, who is followed by Miss BLOOMSBURY, on tiptoe.

    Mrs. Carv. Willingly.

    Mr. Carv. The case lies in a nutshell, my dear: there is a man who swears that Honor McBride was behind the chapel, with Randal Rooney putting a ring on her finger, when the clock struck twelve, and our workmen's bell rang this morning. Honor avers she was at Bob's Fort with you: now as she could not be, like a bird, in two places at once--was she with you?

    Mrs. Carv. Honor McBride was with me when the workmen's bell rang, and when the clock struck twelve, this day--she stayed with me till two o'clock.

    [All the ROONIES, except CATTY, exclaim--

    Oh, no going beyond the lady's word!

    Mrs. Carv. And I think it but justice to add, that Honor McBride has this day given me such proofs of her being a good girl, a good daughter, and a good sister, that she has secured my good opinion and good wishes for life.

    Mr. Carv. And mine in consequence.

    Bloom. And mine of course. [HONOR curtsies.

    [Old McBRIDE bows very low to Mr. CARVER, and again to Mrs. CARVER. PHIL bows to Mr. and Mrs. CARVER, and to Miss BLOOMSBURY.

    Old McB. Where are you now, Catty?--and you, Pat, ye unfortinate liar?

    Pat. (falling on his knees) On me knees I am. Oh, I am an unfortinate liar, and I beg your honour's pardon this once.

    Mr. Carv. A most abandoned liar, I pronounce you.

    Pat. Oh! I hope your honour won't abandon me, for I didn't know Miss Honor was under her ladyship, Mrs. Carver's favour and purtection, or I'd sooner ha' cut my tongue out clane--and I expict your honour won't turn your hack on me quite, for this is the first lies I ever was found out in since my creation; and how could I help, when it was by my master's particular desire?

    Mr. Carv. Your master! honest Gerald O'Blaney!

    Catty. O'Blaney!--save us! (Lifting up her hands and eyes.)

    Mr. Carv. Take care, Pat Coxe.

    Pat. Mr. O'Blaney, ma'am--plase your honour--all truth now--the counshillor, that same and no other, as I've breath in my body--for why should I tell a lie now, when I've no place in my eye, and not a ha'porth to get by it? I'll confess all. It was by my master's orders that I should set you, Mrs. Rooney, and your pride up, ma'am, again' making up with them McBrides. I'll tell the truth now, plase your honour--that was the cause of the lies I mentioned about the ring and chapel--I'll tell more, if you'll bind Mr. Randal to keep the pace.

    Randal. I?--ye dirty dog!--Didn't I tell ye already, I'd not dirty my fingers with the likes of you?

    Pat. All Mr. Gerald O'Blaney's aim was to ruin Mr. Randal Rooney, and set him by the ears with that gentleman, Mr. Philip McBride, the brother, and they to come to blows and outrage, and then be in disgrace committed by his honour.

    Randal. (turning to HONOR McBRIDE) Honor, you saved all--your brother and I never lifted our hands against one another, thanks be to Heaven and you, dearest!

    Catty. And was there no truth in the story of the chapel and the ring?

    Pat. Not a word of truth, but lies, Mrs. Rooney, dear ma'am, of the master's putting into my mouth out of his own head.

    [CATTY ROONEY walks firmly and deliberately across the room to HONOR McBRIDE.

    Catty. Honor McBride, I was wrong; and here, publicly, as I traduced you, I ax your pardon before his honour, and your father, and your brother, and before Randal, and before my faction and his.

    [Both ROONIES and McBRIDES all, excepting Old McBRIDE, clap their hands, and huzza.

    Mr. Carv. I ought to reprove this acclamation--but this once I let it pass.

    Phil. Father, you said nothing--what do you say, sir?

    Old McB. (never moving) I say nothing at all. I never doubted Honor, and knew the truth must appear--that's all I say.

    Honor. Oh! father dear--more you will say (shaking his stick gently). Look up at me, and remember the promise you gave me, when Catty should be rasonable--and is not she rasonable now?

    Old McB. I did not hear a word from her about the bog of Ballynascraw.

    Catty. Is it the pitiful bit?--No more about it! Make crame cheeses of it--what care I? 'Twas only for pride I stood out--not that I'm thinking of now!

    Old McB. Well, then, miracles will never cease! here's one in your favour, Honor; so take her, Randal, fortune and all--a wife of five hundred.

    Randal. (kneeling) Oh! happiest of men I am this minute.

    Catty. I the same, if she had not a pinny in the world.

    Mr. Carv. Happiest of men!--Don't kneel or go in to ecstasies now, I beg, till I know the rationale of this. Was not I consulted?--did not I give my opinion and advice in favour of another?

    Old McB. You was--you did, plase your honour, and I beg your honour's pardon, and Mr. Counsellor O'Blaney's.

    Mr. Carv. And did not you give your consent?--I must think him a very ill-used person.

    Old McB. I gave my consint only in case he could win hers, plase your honour, and he could not--and I could not break my own daughter's heart, and I beg your honour's pardon.

    Mr. Carv. I don't know how that may be, sir, but I gave my approbation to the match; and I really am not accustomed to have my advice or opinion neglected or controverted. Yet, on the other hand--

    Enter a Footman with a note, which he gives to Mr. CARVER.

    Old McB. (aside to PHIL) Say something for me, Phil, can't ye?--I hav'n't a word.

    Mr. Carv. (rising with a quicker motion than usual) Bless me! bless me!--here is a revolution! and a counter revolution!--Here's news will make you all in as great astonishment as I own I am.

    Old McB. What is it?

    Randal. I'm made for life--I don't care what comes.

    Honor. Nor I: so it is not to touch you, I'm happy.

    Catty. Oh! your honour, spake quick, this time--I beg pardon!

    Mr. Carv. Then I have to confess that for once I have been deceived and mistaken in my judgment of a man; and what is more, of a man's circumstances completely--O'Blaney.

    Old McB. What of his circumstances, oh! sir, in the name of mercy?

    Mr. Carv. Bankrupt, at this instant all under seizure to the supervisor. Mr. Gerald O'Blaney has fled the country.

    Old McB. Then, Honor, you are without a penny; for all her fortune, 500l., was in his hands.

    Randal. Then I'm as happy to have her without a penny--happier I am to prove my love pure.

    Catty. God bless you for my own son! That's our way of thinking, Mr. McBride--you see it was not for the fortune.

    Honor. Oh! Phil, didn't I tell you her heart was right?

    Catty. We will work hard--cheer up, McBrides. Now the Roonies and McBrides has joined, you'll see we'll defy the world and O'Blaney, the chate of chates.

    Honor. Randal's own mother!

    Catty. Ay, now, we are all one family--now pull together. Don't be cast down, Phil dear. I'll never call you flourishing Phil again, so don't be standing on pride. Suppose your shister has not a pinny, she's better than the best, and I'll love her and fold her to my ould warm heart, and the daughter of my heart she is now.

    Honor. Oh, mother!--for you are my mother now--and happy I am to have a mother in you.

    Mr. Carv. I protest it makes me almost--almost--blow my nose.

    Catty. Why, then, you're a good cratur. But who tould you I was a vixen, dear--plase your honour?

    Mr. Carv. Your friend that is gone.

    Catty. O'Blaney?

    Randal. Frind! He never was frind to none--least of all to hisself.

    Catty. Oh! the double-distilled villain!--he tould your honour I was a vixen, and fond of law. Now would you believe what I'm going to till you? he tould me of his honour--

    Mr. Carv. Of me, his patron?

    Catty. Of you, his patron, sir. He tould me your honour--which is a slander, as we all here can witness, can't we? by his honour's contempt of Pat Coxe--yet O'Blaney said you was as fond and proud of having informers about you as a rat-catcher is of rats.

    Mr. Carv. Mistress Catherine Rooney, and all you good people,--there is a great deal of difference between obtaining information and encouraging common informers.

    Catty. There is, I'm sinsible. (Aside to her son) Then he's a good magistrate--except a little pompous, mighty good. (Aloud to Mr. CARVER) Then I beg your honour's pardon for my bad behaviour, and bad language and all. 'Twas O'Blaney's fau't--but he's down, and don't trample on the fallen.

    Old McB. Don't defind O'Blaney! Oh! the villain, to rob me of all my hard arnings. Mrs. Catty, I thank you as much as a heavy heart can, for you're ginerous; and you, Randal, for your--

    Randal. Is it for loving her, when I can't help it?--who could?

    Old McB. (sighing deeply) But still it goes against the father's heart to see his child, his pride, go pinnyless out of his house.

    Phil. Then, sir, father dear, I have to tell you she is not pennyless.--But I would not tell you before, that Randal, and Catty too, might show themselves what they are. Honor is not pennyless: the three hundred you gave me to lodge with O'Blaney is safe here. (Opening his pocket-book.)--When I was going to him with it as you ordered, by great luck, I was stopped by this very quarrel and riot in Ballynavogue:--he was the original cause of kicking up the riot, and was summoned before your honour,--and here's the money.

    Old McB. Oh, she's not pinnyless! Well, I never saw money with so much pleasure, in all my long days, nor could I think I'd ever live to give it away with half so much satisfaction as this minute. I here give it, Honor, to Randal Rooney and you:--and bless ye, child, with the man of your choice, who is mine now.

    Mrs. Carv. (aside to Mr. CARVER) My dear, I wish to invite all these good people to a wedding dinner; but really I am afraid I shall blunder in saying their names--will you prompt me?

    Mr. Carv. (aside to Mrs. CARVER) Why really I am not used to be a prompter; however, I will condescend to prompt you, Mrs. Carver. (He prompts, while she speaks.)

    Mrs. Carv. Mr. Big Briny of Cloon, Mr. Ulick of Eliogarty, Mr. Charley of Killaspugbrone, and you, Mrs. Catty Rooney, and you, Mr. McBride, senior, and you, Mr. Philip McBride, no longer flourishing Phil; since you are now all reconciled, let me have the pleasure of giving you a reconciliation dinner, at the wedding of Honor McBride, who is an honour to her family, and Randal Rooney, who so well deserves her love.

    The McBRIDES and ROONIES join in the cry of Long life and great luck to your ladyship, that was always good!

    Mr. Carv. And you comprehend that I beg that the wedding may be celebrated at Bob's Fort.

    All join in crying, Long may your honour's honour reign over us in glory at Bob's Fort!

    Catty. (cracking her fingers) A fig for the bog of Ballynascraw!--Now 'tis all Love and no Law!

    THE END.

    * * * * * * * * * * * *
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