________________________________________________
_ ACT III - SCENE IV
A large Apartment in Bannow Castle, ornamented with the Rose, Thistle, and Shamrock.--The hall opens into a lawn, where the country-people are seen dancing.
Enter CLARA, Sir WILLIAM HAMDEN, and a train of dancers.
Clara.
Now, sir, as we have here English, Scotch, and Irish dancers,
we can have the English country-dance, the Scotch reel, and the Irish jig.
Sir W.
Then to begin with the Irish jig, which I have never seen.
Clara.
You shall see it in perfection.
[An Irish jig is danced, a Scotch reel follows,
and an English country-dance. When CLARA has danced down the country-dance,
she goes with her partner to Sir WILLIAM HAMDEN.]
Clara.
We are going out to look at the dancers on the lawn.
Sir W.
Take me with you, for I wish to see those merry dancers
--I hear them laughing. I love to hear the country-people laugh:
theirs is always the heart's laugh.
[Exeunt Sir WILLIAM and CLARA.]
[The dancers recommence, and after dancing for a few minutes, they go off just as Sir WILLIAM and CLARA return, entering from the hall door.]
Clara.
My dear uncle, thank you for going out among these poor people, and for speaking so kindly to them. One would think that you had lived in Ireland all your life, you know so well how to go straight to Irish heads and Irish hearts by kindness, and by what they love almost as well, humour, and good-humour. Thank you again and again.
Sir W.
My dear niece, you need not thank me; for if you had nothing to do with these people--if you had never been born--I should have loved the Irish for their own sakes. How easy it is to please them! How easy to make them happy; and how grateful they are, even for a few words of kindness.
Clara.
Yes. This I may say without partiality--whatever other faults my countrymen have, they certainly are a grateful people. My father, who knew them well, taught me from my childhood, to trust to Irish gratitude.
Sir W.
(changing his tone)
But, on the other hand, it is my duty to watch over your Irish generosity, Clara. Have you made any more promises, my dear, since morning?
Clara.
Oh! no, sir; and I have heartily repented of that which I made this morning: for I find that this man to whom I have promised the new inn is a sad drunken, good-for-nothing person; and as for his daughter, whom I have never yet seen--
Sir W.
(looking towards the entrance from the lawn)
"But who is this? What thing of sea or land?
Female of sex it seems--
That so bedeck'd, ornate and gay,
Comes this way sailing."
[Enter Miss GALLAGHER.]
Miss G.
Sir, I beg pardon. But I was told Miss O'Hara would wish to speak with Christy Gallagher, and I'm his daughter--he not being very well to-night. He will be up with miss in the morning--but is confined to his bed with a pain about his heart, he took, just when I was coming away.
[CHRISTY'S voice heard, singing, to the tune of
"St. Patrick's day in the morning."]
"Full bumpers of whiskey,
Will make us all frisky,
On Patrick's day in the morning."
Miss G.
(aside)
Oh! King of glory, if he is not come up after all!
Clara.
"What noise is that, unlike the former sound?"
Sir W.
Only some man, singing in honour of St. Patrick, I suppose.
[Enter CHRISTY GALLAGHER, BIDDY trying to hold him back.]
Christy.
Tut! let me in: I know the lady is here, and I must thank her as becoming--
[CLARA puts her hand before her face and retires as he advances.]
Miss G.
Oh! father, keep out--you're not in a condition.
Sir W.
John! Thomas! carry this man off.
Christy.
Ah, now, just let me remark to his honour
--did he ever hear this song in England?
(He struggles and sings, while they are carrying him off,)
"O'Rourke's noble feast shall ne'er be forgot,
By those who were there, or by those who were not."
But it was not O'Rourke's noble feast at all, it was O'Hara's noble feast, to the best of my knowledge--I'll take my affidavit; and am not I here, on the spot, ready and proud to fight any one that denies the contrary? Let me alone, Florry, for I'm no babby to be taken out of the room. Ready and proud, I say I am, to fight any tin men in the county, or the kingdom itself, or the three kingdoms entirely, that would go for to dare for to offer to articulate the contrary. So it's Miss O'Hara for ever, huzza! a! a! a! a!
Sir W.
Carry him off this instant. Begone!
[The servants carry off CHRISTY GALLAGHER,
while he sings, to the tune of "One bottle more,"]
"Oh, give me but whiskey, continted I'll sing,
Hibernia for ever, and God save the king!"
[Miss GALLAGHER directs and expedites her father's retreat.]
Clara.
Shame! shame! Is this the tenant I have chosen?
Miss G.
Indeed, and indeed, then, Miss O'Hara, I often preach to him, but there's no use in life preaching to him--as good preaching to the winds! for, drunk or sober, he has an answer ready at all points. It is not wit he wants, sir.
Sir W.
And he is happy in having a daughter, who knows how to make the best of his faults, I see. What an excellent landlord he will be for this new inn!
Miss G.
Oh, certainly, sir--only it's being St. Patrick's night, he would be more inexcusable; and as to the new inn, plase Heaven! he shall get no pace on earth till he takes an oath afore the priest against spirits, good or bad, for a twil'month to come, before ever I trust a foot of his in the new inn.
Clara.
But, ma'am, from your own appearance, I should apprehend that you would not he suited to the business yourself--I should suppose you would think it beneath you to keep an inn.
Miss G.
Why, ma'am--why, sir--you know when it is called an hotel, it's another thing; and I'm sure I've a great regard for the family, and there's nothing I wouldn't do to oblige Miss O'Hara.
Clara.
Miss Gallagher, let me beg that if you wish to oblige me--
[Enter GILBERT.]
Sir W.
Well, Gilbert?
Gilb.
Only, sir, if you and Miss O'Hara were at leisure, sir, one Mr. Andrew Hope, the master of the band, would wish to be allowed to come in to sing a sort of a welcome home they have set to music, sir, for Miss O'Hara.
Clara.
I do believe this is the very song which that drunken man gave me this morning, and for which I gave him the promise of the inn. I shall be ashamed to hear the song.
Sir W. Let me hear it, at all events. Desire Mr. Andrew Hope, and his merry-men-all, to walk in.
[Exit GILBERT.]
[Enter Mr. HOPE and band.--Some of the country-people peep in, as if wishing to enter.]
Sir W.
Come in, my good friends.
[Enter, among others, the Widow LARKEN, and MABEL, and OWEN.--BIDDY follows timidly.--Miss GALLAGHER takes a conspicuous place.--Sir WILLIAM and CLARA continue speaking.]
Sir W.
Did Gilbert introduce his bride elect to you, Clara?
Clara.
Yes, Mabel Larken, that girl with the sweet modest countenance--and her mother, that respectable-looking woman; and her brother, I see, is here, that boy with the quick, intelligent eyes. I know all the family--know them all to be good; and these were the people I might have served! Oh, fool! fool!
Sir W.
Well, well, well, 'tis over now, my dear Clara--you will be wiser another time. Come, Mr. Hope, give us a little flattery, to put us in good-humour with ourselves.
[The band prelude; but just as they begin, Sir WILLIAM sees CHRISTY, who is coming in softly, holding back the skirts of his coat.--Sir WILLIAM in a loud voice exclaims,]
Turn out that man! How dare you return to interrupt us, sir?
Turn out that man!
Christy.
(falling on his knees)
Oh! plase your honour, I beg your pardon for one minute:
only just give me lave to insense your honour's honour.
I'm not the same man at all.
Sir W.
Stand up, stand up--an Englishman cannot bear to see a man kneel to him.
Stand up, pray, if you can.
Christy.
Then I can, plase your honour (rises), since I got a shock.
Clara.
What shock? What do you mean?
Christy.
Oh, nothing in life, miss, that need consarn you--only a fall I got from my horse, which the child they set to lead me would put me up upon, and it come down and kilt me; for it wasn't a proper horse for an unfortunate man like me, that was overtaken, as I was then; and it's well but I got a kick of the baast.
Sir W.
Do you say you were kicked by a horse?
Christy.
Not at all, plase your honour--I say it was well but I got a kick of the baast. But it's all for the best now; for see, I'm now as sober as a jidge, and quite as any lamb; and if I'd get lave only just to keep in this here corner, I would be no let or hinderance to any. Oh! dear miss! spake for me! I'm an ould man, miss, that your father's honour was partial to always, and called me honest Christy, which I was once, and till his death too.
Sir W.
What a strange mixture is this man!
Clara.
Pray let him stay, uncle--he's sober now.
Sir W.
Say not one word more, then; stand still there in your corner.
Christy.
And not a word for my life--not breathe, even--to plase you!
becaase I've a little business to mintion to the lady.
Sixty guineas to resave from Mr. Gilbert, yonder. Long life to you, miss!
But I'll say no more till this Scotchman has done with his fiddle and his musics.
Sir W.
I thought, sir, you were not to have spoken another syllable.
[CHRISTY puts his finger on his lips, and bows to Sir WILLIAM and to CLARA.]
Sir W.
Now, Mr. Hope.
Mr. HOPE sings, and the Band join in chorus,
Though Bannow's heiress, fair and young,
Hears polish'd praise from ev'ry tongue;
Yet good and kind, she'll not disdain
The tribute of the lowly swain.
The heart's warm welcome, Clara, meets thee;
Thy native land, dear lady, greets thee.
That open brow, that courteous grace,
Bespeaks thee of thy generous race;
Thy father's soul is in thy smile--
Thrice blest his name in Erin's isle.
The heart's warm welcome, Clara, meets thee;
Thy native land, dear lady, greets thee.
The bright star shining on the night,
Betokening good, spreads quick delight;
But quicker far, more glad surprise,
Wakes the kind radiance of her eyes.
The heart's warm welcome, Clara, meets thee;
Thy native land, dear lady, greets thee[1].
[Footnote 1: Set to music by Mr. Webbe.]
Christy.
Then I'm not ashamed, any way, of that song of mine.
Sir W.
Of yours?--Is it possible that it is yours?
Clara.
It is indeed. These are the very lines he gave me this morning.
Christy.
And I humbly thank you, madam or miss,
for having got them set to the musics.
Clara.
I had nothing to do with that.
We must thank Mr. Hope for this agreeable surprise.
Christy.
Why, then, I thank you, Mr. Drum.
Mr. H.
You owe me no thanks, sir. I will take none from you.
Christy.
No--for I didn't remember giving you the copy. I suppose Florry did.
Miss G.
Not I, sir.
Christy.
Or the schoolmaster's foul copy may be,
for it was he was putting the song down for me on paper.
My own hand-writing shaking so bad,
I could not make a fair copy fit for the lady.
Mr. H.
Mr. Gallagher, don't plunge farther in falsehood
--you know the truth is, that song's not yours.
Christy.
Why, then, by all--
Mr. H.
Stop, stop, Mr. Gallagher--stop, I advise you.
Christy.
Why, then, I won't stop at any thing--for the song's my own.
Mr. H.
In one sense of the word, may be, it may be called your own, sir;
for you bought it, I know.
Christy.
I bought it? Oh, who put that in your Scotch brains?
Whoever it was, was a big liar.
Biddy.
No liar at all, sir--I ax your pardon--'twas I.
Christy.
And you overheard my thoughts, then, talking to myself--ye traitor!
Biddy.
No, sir--again I ax your pardon; no listener Biddy Doyle. But I was at the schoolmaster's, to get him pen a letter for me to my poor father, and there with him, I heard how Christy bought the song, and seen the first copy--and the child of the house told me all about it, and how it was lift there by Mr. Owen Larken.
Sir W. and Clara
(joyfully).
Owen Larken!--you?
Christy.
All lies! Asy talk!--asy talk--asy to belie a poor man.
Mr. H.
If you tell the truth, you can tell us the next verse,
for there's another which we did not yet sing.
Christy.
Not in my copy, which is the original.
Sir W.
If you have another verse, let us hear it
--and that will decide the business.
Christy.
Oh, the devil another line, but what's lame,
I'll engage, and forged, as you'll see.
Mr. HOPE sings,
Quick spring the feelings of the heart,
When touch'd by Clara's gen'rous art;
Quick as the grateful shamrock springs,
In the good fairies' favour'd rings.
Clara.
What does Christy say now?
Christy.
Why, miss, I say that's well said for the shamrock any way. And all that's in it for me is this--the schoolmaster was a rogue that did not give me that verse in for my money.
Sir W.
Then you acknowledge you bought it?
Christy.
What harm, plase your honour? And would not I have a right to buy what pleases me--and when bought and ped for isn't it mine in law and right? But I am mighty unlucky this night. So, come along, Florry--we are worsted see! No use to be standing here longer, the laughing-stock of all that's in it--Ferrinafad.
Miss G.
Murder! Father, then here's all you done for me, by your lies and your whiskey! I'll go straight from ye, and lodge with Mrs. Mulrooney. Biddy, what's that you're grinning at? Plase to walk home out of that.
Biddy.
Miss Florinda, I am partly engaged to dance;
but I won't be laving you in your downfall:
so here's your cloak--and lane on me.
Widow.
Why, then, Biddy, we'll never forget you in our prosperity.
Mabel and Owen.
Never, never. You're a good girl, Biddy.
[Exeunt Miss GALLAGHER, BIDDY, and CHRISTY.]
Clara.
I am glad they are gone.
Sir W.
I congratulate you, my dear niece,
upon having got rid of tenants who would have disgraced your choice.
Clara.
These
(turning to OWEN, MABEL, and her mother,)
these will do honour to it. My written promise was to grant the poet's petition. Owen, you are the poet--what is your petition?
Owen.
May I speak?--May I say all I wish?
Clara and Sir W.
Yes, speak--say all you wish.
Owen.
I am but a young boy, and not able to keep the new inn; but Mr. Gilbert and Mabel, with my mother's help, would keep it well, I think; and it's they I should wish to have it, ma'am, if it were pleasing to you.
Sir W.
And what would become of yourself, my good lad?
Owen.
Time enough, sir, to think of myself,
when I've seen my mother and sister settled.
Sir W.
Then as you won't think of yourself, I must think for you.
Your education, I find, has been well begun,
and I will take care it shall not be left half done.
Widow.
Oh, I'm too happy this minute! But great joy can say little.
Mabel.
(aside)
And great love the same.
Mr. H.
This day is the happiest I have seen since I left the land of cakes.
Gilb.
Thank you, Mr. Hope. And when I say thank you, why, I feel it.
'Twas you helped us at the dead lift.
Sir W.
You see I was right, Gilbert; the Scotch make good friends.
(GILBERT bows.)
And now, Clara, my love, what shall we call the new inn
--for it must have a name? Since English, Scotch, and Irish,
have united to obtain it, let the sign be the Rose, Thistle, and Shamrock.
[THE END]
Maria Edgeworth's play: Rose, Thistle, And Shamrock
_
Read previous: Act 3 - Scene 3
Table of content of Rose, Thistle, And Shamrock
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book
