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_ ACT II - SCENE III
Parlour of the Inn.
CHRISTY and Miss GALLAGHER.
Christy.
(to Miss GALLAGHER, slapping her on her back)
Hould up your head, child; there's money bid for you.
Miss G.
Lord, father, what a thump on the back to salute one with.
Well, sir, and if money is bid for me, no wonder:
I suppose, it's because I have money.
Christy.
That's all the rason--you've hit it, Florry. It's money that love always looks for now. So you may be proud to larn the news I have for you, which will fix Mr. Gilbert, your bachelor, for life, I'll engage--and make him speak out, you'll see, afore night-fall. We have the new inn, dear!--I've got the promise here under her own hand-writing.
Miss G.
Indeed!--Well, I'm sure I shall be glad to get out of this hole, which is not fit for a rat or a Christian to live in--and I'll have my music and my piano in the back parlour, genteel.
Christy.
Oh! Ferrinafad, are you there? It's your husband must go to that expinse, my precious, if he chooses, twingling and tweedling, instead of the puddings and apple pies--that you'll settle betwix yees; and in the honeymoon, no doubt, you've cunning enough to compass that, and more.
Miss G.
To be sure, sir, and before I come to the honeymoon, I promise you; for I won't become part or parcel of any man that ever wore a head, except he's music in his soul enough to allow me my piano in the back parlour.
Christy.
Asy! asy! Ferrinafad--don't be talking about the piano-forte, till you are married. Don't be showing the halter too soon to the shy horse--it's with the sieve of oats you'll catch him; and his head once in the sieve, you have the halter on him clane. Pray, after all, tell me, Florry, the truth--did Mr. Gilbert ever ax you?
Miss G.
La, sir, what a coarse question.
His eyes have said as much a million of times.
Christy.
That's good--but not in law, dear. For, see, you could not shue a man in the four courts for a breach of promise made only with the eyes, jewel. It must be with the tongue afore witness, mind, or under the hand, sale, or mark--look to that.
Miss G.
But, dear sir, Mr. Gilbert is so tongue-tied with that English bashfulness.
Christy.
Then Irish impudence must cut the string of that tongue, Florry. Lave that to me, unless you'd rather yourself.
Miss G.
Lord, sir--what a rout about one man,
when, if I please, I might have a dozen lovers.
Christy.
Be the same more or less. But one rich bachelor's worth a dozen poor, that is, for the article of a husband.
Miss G.
And I dare say the drum-major is rich enough, sir
--for all Scotchmen, they say, is fond of money and aconomie;
and I'd rather after all be the lady of a military man.
(Sings.)
"I'll live no more at home,
But I'll follow with the drum,
And I'll be the captain's lady, oh!"
Christy.
Florry! Florry! mind you would not fall between two stools, and nobody to pity you.
[Enter BIDDY.]
Miss G.
Well, what is it?
Biddy.
The bed. I was seeing was the room empty, that I might make it; for it's only turned up it is, when I was called off to send in dinner. So I believe I'd best make it now, for the room will be wanting for the tea-drinking, and what not.
Miss G.
Ay, make the bed do, sure it's asy, and no more about it;
--you've talked enough about it to make twinty beds,
one harder nor the other,--if talk would do.
(BIDDY goes to make the bed.)
And I'm sure there's not a girl in the parish does less in the day, for all the talk you keep. Now I'll just tell all you didn't do, that you ought this day, Biddy.
[While Miss GALLAGHER is speaking to BIDDY, Mr. GALLAGHER opens a press, pours out, and swallows a dram.]
Christy.
Oh, that would be too long telling, Florry, and that'll keep cool. Lave her now, and you may take your scould out another time. I want to spake to you. What's this I wanted to say? My memory's confusing itself. Oh, this was it--I didn't till you how I got this promise of the inn: I did it nately--I got it for a song.
Miss G.
You're joking,--and I believe, sir, you're not over and above sober. There's a terrible strong smell of the whiskey.
Christy.
No, the whiskey's not strong, dear, at-all-at-all!--You may keep smelling what way you plase, but I'm as sober as a judge, still,--and, drunk or sober, always knows and knewed on which side my bread was buttered:--got it for a song, I tell you--a bit of a complimentary, adulatory scroll, that the young lady fancied--and she, slap-dash, Lord love her, and keep her always so! writes at the bottom, granted the poet's petition.
Miss G.
And where on earth, then, did you get that song?
Christy.
Where but in my brains should I get it?
I could do that much any way, I suppose,
though it was not my luck to be edicated at Ferrinafad.
[Miss GALLAGHER looks back, and sees BIDDY behind her.--Miss GALLAGHER gives her a box on the ear.]
Miss G.
Manners! that's to teach ye.
Biddy.
Manners!--Where would I larn them--when I was only waiting the right time to ax you what I'd do for a clane pillow-case?
Miss G.
Why, turn that you have inside out, and no more about it.
Christy.
And turn yourself out of this, if you plase.
(He turns BIDDY out by the shoulders.)
Let me hear you singing Baltiorum in the kitchen,
for security that you're not hearing my sacrets.
There, she's singing it now, and we're snug;
--tell me when she stops, and I'll stop myself.
Miss G.
Then there's the girl has ceased singing. There's somebody's come in,
into the kitchen; may be it's the drum-major. I'll go and see.
[Exit Miss GALLAGHER.]
CHRISTY, solus.
There she's off now! And I must after her, else she'll spoil her market, and my own. But look ye, now--if I shouldn't find her agreeable to marry this Mr. Gilbert, the man I've laid out for her, why here's a good stick that will bring her to rason in the last resort; for there's no other way of rasoning with Ferrinafad.
[Exit CHRISTY.] _
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