Kat. So, betwixt my lips and a glass of punch, you're the ass between two bundles of Dur. Now I'm an ass-you're a bundle of sweet-since nobody's by, I'll make hay while the sun shines-kiss me, Kathlane, and then I'll be in clover. Kat. No; I'll not take such a rake as you when I go a hay-making, I assure you. Dar. See there, now! Kat. Ay, and see there again now-you know, Darby, I'm an heiress, and so take your answer: you're no match for me. Dar. An heiress! Why, though your father, old Jorum, that kept the Harp and Crown, left you well enough in the world, as a body may say, yet Kat. Well enough, you disparaging fellow! Did'nt my poor father leave me a fortune of eleven pounds-a barrel of ale upon draught-the dappled mare, besides the furniture of the whole house, which 'praised to the matter of thirty-eight shillings! Well enough, indeed! Dar. [Soothing.] Nay, but Kathlane Kat. [Passionate.] Well enough! And didn't he leave me the bald filly, you puppy? Dar. Oh, now she's got upon the bald filly, the devil can't take her down. Kat. A pretty thing to say to a girl of my fortune! AIR.-KATHLANE (C.) Dermot's welcome as the May, Cheerful, handsome, and good-natur'd ; Foolish Darby, get away, Awkward, clumsy, and ill-featur'd. Dermot prattles pretty chat; Darby gapes like any oven: Dermot's neat from shoe to hat; Come no more to me courting; Dermot's teeth are white as egg, C Dermot walks a comely pace; Darby like an ass goes stumping: Darby's dance is only jumping. Silly booby, &c. [Exit Kathlane, L. Dar. Heigho! I must fall in love-I'd better have fell in the river. [Sighs.] Oh dear! Bag. [Without, L.] Oh, Monsieur Darby ! Dar. Lord, this is Mr. Bag and Tail, the monsieur. Enter BAGATELLE, L., with a letter. Bag. Ah, ha! Monsieur Darby, begar I did look all about, and I could no find you. Dar. That's because I'm so wrapped in love. Dar. Oh, you're going to fight Pat. Bag. Oui, and dis is de challenge, de lettre de mort. Dar. (R.) Oh, what you'll leather him more. Bag. Dis soldier Patrick did affront me before Mademoiselle Norah, and I vill have de satisfaction.Begar I vill kill soldier Pat, and you sall be my friend. Dar. Can't you as well kill Dermot, and then you'll be my friend-but why kill Pat? Bag. Ce Monsieur Pat, quel barbare! Dar. Oh, because you're a barber. Bag. Ah, vou'd you affront me, too?-you-hey? Bag. Taisez vous? you vill be my friend, if you vill give dis challenge to Monsieur Patrick. Dar. Give it me-by the Lord Harry, man, he shall have it. Bag. I vill not trust dat Lor Harry's man--give it yourself. Dar. Well, I will. Bag. My Lor Lofty's coachee did write it for me, as he is Englis. Dar. Let's see. [Opens it and reads.] "Sir, this comes hopping"-Hopping! I'll run all the way, if that will do-"that you're in good health, as I am at this present writing. I tell you what, friend,—though you think yourself a great officer, you don't make me walk out of a window; and this comes to let you know I'll have Norah in spite of you-I'll be damned if I don't-and moreover than that, meet me in the Elm Grove, at seven in the evening, when you must give me satisfaction, but not with curling-irons— till then I'm yours, as in duty bound." Bag. Oui, dat is de etiquette of de challenge-I put no name for fear of de law. Dar. It is not directed, but Pat shall have it. Bag. Fort bien. Dar. I know Pat is Norah's sweetheart. But how did ie affront you? Bug. Affront! begar he did take off his hat and make ne a low bow. Dar. That was an affront, indeed! Bag. And den says he, Monsieur, I should be much oblige to you if you vill do me the honour to valk out of the vindre. Dar. Well, you could not do less, he was so civil. Bag. Ah ha, Monsieur, says 1, begar I vill make you valk down stairs; vid dat I did lift my leg and give him one blow dat did kick him from de top to de bottom. Dar. You kicked him down stairs! and for that he must give you satisfaction. Bug. Dat is it. Monsieur Darby, I vou'd not trust de upper domestiques at the duke's, nor employ de lower servants upon dis affair of honour. You must come to de fight vid me-I have de pistols. Dar. Pistols ! Bag. Oui, you sall be my seconde. Dar. Pistols! second! Eh, couldn't I be third or fourth? Bag. Ah, monsieur, you are wrong, toute autre chose. Dar. Oh, I must get two other shoes. [Looking at his feet. Bag. Non. Vell, Monsieur Darby, serviteur : now I have sent my challenge, I am ready in de duel to decide de point of honour, and so I vill go-brush my master's [Exit, L. coat. Dar. Pistols! I don't much like giving this challenge to Pat-he's a devil of a fellow since he turned soldier. He bid monsieur walk out of a window-he may desire ne to walk up the chimney. Ecod! the boy at the alehouse shall give it him. [Exit, L. Enter NORAH, r. Nor. Nowhere can I find him, and I fear my uncle will miss me from home. My letter must have con vinced him how he wronged me by his suspicions. Unkind Patrick! if I could but once see him, a convent then is welcome, for I am determined never to give my hand to another. AIR-NORAH. Dearest youth, why thus delay, And say for him I'm staying. Meads and groves I've wander'd o'er, Enter PATRICK, L. Pat. My dear Norah, excuse my delay; but so many old acquaintances in the village Nor. (R.) You had my letter? Pat. (L.) Yes; and I'm ashamed of my folly,-to be jealous of such a baboon, too. Nor. Ay; but he'd soon be cashiered if his master, Captain Fitzroy, knew of his presumption. Pat. Ah, Norah, I feel more terror at that one captain's name, than I did at the sight of a whole army of enemies, drawn up in battle array against me. Nor. My dearest Patrick, only be constant: love me as I think you do, and mine is fixed on such a basis of permanent affection, as never can be shaken. Pat. And can you prefer a poor foot soldier, to a captain, my sweet Norah? Nor. Ah, my Patrick, you may be only a private in the army, but you're a field officer here. [Lays her hand to her heart. Pat. Charming, generous girl! AIR-PATRICK. Though Leixslip is proud of its close shady bowers, Be gentlemen fine with their spurs and nice boots on, Or dance at a ball with their Sunday new suits onLac'd waistcoat, white gloves, and their neat powder'd hair; Poor Pat, while so bless'd in his mean humble station, For gold or for acres he never shall long; One sweet smile can give him the wealth of a nation,— From Norah, dear Norah, the theme of my song. Enter FITZROY behind, in a plain scarlet frock and round hat, L. Fit. [Aside, L.] My little country wife in company with a common soldier! Nor. Don't fail to come to our house as you promised, for at that time my uncle will be down at Dermot's.I've a notion 'twill be a match between him and Kathlane, my uncle's her guardian.-Adieu, my Patrick. You'll come early. [Parting tenderly-exit Norah, R. Pat. Happy Dermot! his Kathlane had not charms to attract the attention of this gentleman; but, because Norah is most beautiful, Patrick is most unhappy. Fit. [Aside.] This is a timely and fortunate discovery -If I had married her, I should have been in a hopeful way. [Advancing.] A pretty girl you've got there, brother soldier. Pat. She's handsome, sir. Fit. You seem to be well with her-eh? Pat. [Sighs.] But without her Fit. Oh, then, you think you shall be without her? Pat. Yes, sir. Fit. What parts you? Pat. My poverty. Fit. Why, she don't seem to be rich? |