SCENE I. A Camp at Silesia—Tents, Soldiers cleaning their Arms, &c.

Well, here I am near the camp of Silesia—I sup­pose I shall easily find out Marshal Fehrbellin's tent—if I could meet my old friend Darby—he should con­duct me to it—but let's see—what says Darby's let­ter—ay, here's his scrawl.

Camp in Silesia.

H [...]y, who have we here? some poor devil going to [...] nogg'd.

Oh, dear good Mr. Adjutant, and you my good little drummers—my dear friends, pot companions, bro­ther comrades and brother soldiers—now how can you have the heart to flog poor Darby?

Poor Darby—and is this thy preferment?

Pray, Sir,—how came this poor fellow in such disgarce?

A poor harmless devil, Sir—but sometimes a little prone to mischief—but for his arch tricks such a favourite with our officers, that tho' he frequently deserves punishment, yet he generally gets forgiven—and now, Sir, we give him this whipping as private as possible out of pure lenity—I have myself a very great friendship for poor Darby—so strip, you dog.

Lord Sir, I never strip but when I go to bed.—What are you about there Tommy, Tickleback?

Only tying knots.

Tying knots—now that's very childish of you. And pray, what are you about, Neddy Nimblewrist?

Twisting whipcord and wire—to give you a red waistcoat.

Whipcord and wire. Oh, dear—well if I must be whipp'd—If I don't like it, you shall leave off.

Pray, Sir, what's his crime?

Only suspicion of drunkenness, and sleeping on his post.

Yes, sleeping on my post—but I never dreamt that I should be flogg'd for it.

Who is your Captain?

At present, Sir; we have no Captain, he that was our captain was preferr'd prior to the review, and our new one is not arrived yet from Berlin.

Yes, Sir, but he is arrived, and honour'd with his Majesty's commission. I am he.

Captain Pat—Patty—yes it is, did I not say I should see Captain Patty?

Adjutant—I think this business may be deferr'd.

Why, Sir, we had not the honor to knew of your arrival—and, Sir, to oblige you, we'll postpone his punishment.

By all means.

By all means—Postpone, ay and pardon it too—the devil a bit of hurt will it do to any body.

Release him.

Ay release me—don't you hear, my dear friends—pot-companions, brother messmates, and brother sol­diers, Neddy Nimblewrist, and Tommy Tickleback—I am not for the red waistcoat—so you may go and find another mouse for your cat o-nine-tails. Get out, get along. Ah, ha!

And if you please, Sir, I'll go and inform the Marshal of your arrival—Sir, you are welcome to out corps—I am very glad to see you.

Yes, Sir, I am very glad to see you—but my dear Pat, how you came like my good guardian angel, to save me!—let me see—arn't you an angel?

But how is all this, Darby?—you ingenious rogue you, how did you bring all this about?—I left you at the plow tail in Ireland—and here I find you at the whipping post in Silesia.

Ay, 'twas you that did it—for when Captain Fitzroy made you a present of the colours, it set me all agog for a General's staff—and when that jade Kathleen jilted me.

Away went carts and waggons—plows and flails.—

Ay, and because I could not do as I would, while I was worth a farthing, sold off all—and up to Dublin I came, mounted on a long tail'd dobin—and to be sure I did not do things neatly—did not trim my­self out in a smart suit of cloaths, and shew them the soul of an Irish lad—but hearing that there were some pretty boys of the Shamrock in London, I thought I'd see that too; I don't know how it was, but in taking leave of this body and that body, I muddled a little, and the blundering waterman, instead of putting me into a Parkgate Packet—launched me on board a ship bound for the Baltic—and I never discover'd the mistake 'till I found myself landed at Dantzick; but how came you to sell your English commission, and turn Prussian soldier?

Why at present my country does not want my services, and I thought if it should want them, that they would not prove less deserving of George by being for the present under the tuition of so regular a disciplined a master as Frederick.—The Prussian arms were ever fam'd for regularity—pray how comes it they have made you so irregular?

Irregular—the most regular—as regular to my two half gallons every day, as I was to Dermot's brown jug—But Patty, tho' you are my Captain, you and I may crack a joke now and then—the devil a harm will it do our strict Prussian discipline, for you and I, when we are snug, to talk over our merry meetings with our singing pot companions, Dermot and Father Luke, at the shoulder of murton.—Oh your ho­nour

likes a shoulder of mutton—

I shall give orders to the sutler to dress you a nice one.

Marshal Fehrbellin's complimenta—glad— hear of your arrival—expect you at camp—half an hour.

Give my respectful compliments, and I'll do myself the pleasure to wait on him.

Tell him so.

Tall fellow—but of very few words.

Very few, but he found enough to inform against me—but if I am not even with him for it, there are no potatoee in Munster.

Eh, Darby—yonder's a fine lovely girl passing along there—do you know her?

Oh, yes, she is a very fine girl—but we have flocks of such in Prussia—Lord, Sir, if you'll come along with me, I'll introduce you a-la-millitare.

By all means, Darby.

SCENE II. Front Grove.

Now to count my money—let me see—I sold my pippins for two pence—my strawberries for six­pence my peaches for ten pence, and my roses for four pence: And now to tie it up in the corner of my handkerchief, lest any rude fellow should insult me.

There she is Darby.

Oh, yes, there she is, and she's yours—I know her—her name's Flora, she sells apples and flowers— and collyflowers.

And she's the sweetest flower in her own gar­den —My lovely girl.—

Did you call me, Sir?

Yes my pretty dear.

Pray, my dear, an't you a Whatecallum Girl— and don't you live in—Thingumy village?

Well, suppose I am a Whatecallum girl, and do live at Thingumy village, what then?

What then—oh, nothing at all—only that's Pat—and his honour would be glad to see you in his honor's tent, to take a glass of wine with his honor.

Honor, and honor—I drink wine with his honor! The fellow's a fool, I think.

So he is, my pretty dear—but, my sweet rose­bud, there's no harm, I hope, in taking a glass of wine, my pretty Pomona.

Oh, how sweet she would smack!

Do you think so, Darby?

Oh, yes, Sir—she's yours, Sir, I'll get her for you.

Have a care, Darby, are you sure I shan't be guilty of seduction!—I would not for a transient plea­sure bring lasting ruin upon a poor innocent girl.

Ruin! Oh, pray what have you done with Norah?

Norah I have left her to the care of Father Luke.

What, old two to one, that brings mutton to his mouth by means of the multiplication table.

But, Darby—where can I find apartments— where can I put on my shoes?

We all wear boots in the camp—we shoe none but the horses.—But you shall lodge for the pre­sent at Mable Flourishes, where the officers mess—I'll order your baggage there, and to be sure to-morrow I won't [...]it you up the smartest booth in the camp—so come along—Pat—come along Patty—oh, dear—this way, Captain—Captain Patty.

Very well, Mr. Darby; you seem very accom­modating truly—and indeed if the girls are so hand­some, and come much in my way, I shall stand in need of all my constancy.

SCENE Outside of MABEL FLOURISHES.

I am strangely puzzl'd how to get this girl for Pat—she's so very modest. Mabel.

Where are these apartments, where's Ma­bels?

Here, your honour—Mabel—Mabel.

Here's a new guest for you; so clean up your house, rub up the mohogany table—turn the counterpane—lay down the great carpet—get the trumpeter's great chair uncovered—wash-ball and ship­pers —throw some sand upon the stairs, and kick the cat out of the way.

Devilish lucky Pat's coming—let me see—I'll employ Olmutz to get Flora—will draw him into a scrape, and I shall be revenged on him for his attempt to get me tied to the halberts—and it he wants to ex­cuse himself—it will be by half sentences, so that no­body will believe him. Eh, here he comes, and little Quiz with him—that fellow always keeps company with great people—how high he carries his head with his hairy cap. When he comes in at a door he's oblig­ed to duck like a gander under a gate—drinks by half-gallons out of rummer glasses; eats with his broad sword and picks his teeth with a bayonet.

I say Darby was shot from the mouth of a cannon.

Your cannon's a great gun.

No, no, I say he was only whipp'd.

No, nor he was not whipp'd.

I say, when I am a trooper.—

Ay, when shrimps are lobsters.

Shrimps and lobsters—I say, spirit does not consist in size—The sword-fish is not a whale—you shall see if Marshal Fehrbellin will refuse me a place in the grenadier corps.

Well, we shall soon see, for here he comes.

Does he? the first impression's a great deal— I'll go and accoutre myself, and appear before him a­la-militare.

Oh, Quiz is gone—he could not stay to speak to his Highness—so Mabel shall—for Olmutz I want to talk to you—soldiers, you know, should not bear ma­lice —Your hand—I'll make your fortune—Mabel.

His Highness is coming to see your lodger—Mabel do you receive him.

Where's the new officer, Captain Patrick?

He is but just taking off his beard—shall I call him to your Highness?

No, I won't have him disturb'd—I'll send my Aid-de-Camp to him—A good fine sized woman—the proportion of our men has been for some time dimi­nishing —now to match her with that tall fellow would produce soldiers equal to the full standard.—Are you married?

No, and please your Highness, I am a maid, at your service.

What's your name?

Mabel Flourish, and please your highness— my father was trumpeter Flourish.

Yes, they'll do very well—Soldier.

Here.

Are you married?

No, Highness.

Can you read?

Can't say, never tried.

Yes, they'll make an excellent match—I'll give orders to Captain Patrick to see the ceremony perform­ed —It will be an excellent lesson to him of the strictness of our military discipline—Here, deliver that to Cap­tain Patrick.—Yes, they'll be a very pretty couple.

His Highness was always very proud—I never heard him talk so sweet and condescending before.

Coming, coming.

What devil's this?

What's the matter, Olmutz?

Marshal desire me give this paper—Captain Patrick.

That paper—what is it?

Don't know—can't read.

Let me see— ‘Marshal Fehrbellin's com­pliments to Capt. Patrick—desires he will, at sight of this, see the bearer married to Mabel Flourish, with all dispatch; and, as a portion, he will give her 50 rix-dollars from the military chest.’—Indeed!—but Olmutz shall never touch the dollars—Olmutz, you had better go about that business I was telling you of.

What, and leave Marshal's paper—may be of consequence—let's hear what about.

Oh, you want to know what its about—oh, you shall hear what its about—You can't read, you say.

No.

‘Marshal Fehrbellin's compliments to Capt. Patrick; desires he will, at fight of this, see the bearer ride the great horse, for one hour, with five carbines tied to each leg.’

Me! what have I done? Wooden horse—five carbines!

Poor fellow!—what a fine tall figure to ride the high horse—Oh! your poor legs.

For what?—What have I done?

Poor devil!—such legs to suffer so—what did he say to you?

Ask'd if I could read.

And I suppose you told him no.

No—didn't—said—never tried.

Never tried! Ay, that's done it.

Here comes Quiz strutting, so merry—I obliged to ride great horse!

I'll have a good joke

Olmutz, this paper don't mention your name: it only says the bearer.— Suppose we give it to Quiz to carry.

The very thing.—Captain, make him ride the great horse.

So he will. Get a wafer: for Quiz can read, you know, and that would spoil the joke. This is fine. Come, Olmutz, there—

To be sure I shall cut a very foolish bit of a figure at the grand review.

Ay, Quiz, better perhaps than you think: for I don't know how it comes about, but the Marshal, on my speaking a good word for you, has made your for­tune —Under this water lies your preferment.

Yes, he'll soon be exalted.

Ay, great merit can't long lay hid. But what is under that wafer?

A letter the Marshal desired you would give to Captain Patrick I told him you was a great man.

So I am—a high fellow.

So I said:—six feet and an inch high, cap and all.

Yes, and he'll be highly mounted—a trooper.

Ay, Sir, little as you may think me, I may look down to-morrow on people taller than myself. I may, by the god of war

Yes, he'll look down, Darby, —perhaps to­day

You'll give the letter.

Do you think I'd neglect the Marshal's com­mands —I will give it, by the god of war.

Hey day, what sort of a figure have we here?

I am order'd by Marshal Fehrbellin to de­liver this biller.

"Bearer—married—Mable Flourish." A strange command this—but this I suppose his High­ness wants to replenish his race of drummers.—Where, where is this Mable?

Here your honor—your honor lest the key in your great trunk.

Well, I suppose you are both determined.

Yes, by the god of war—honor's my mistress, and for her I'll die.

Well then, I'll send for a chaplain, and you shall both be married directly.

Married!

Yes, I am ordered by the Marshal to see you both married.

I married to such a shrimp of a man!—what does the Marshal mean?

Yes, Darby has done my business for me.

What's your name?

Quiz Oddbody,

Then, Mrs Oddbody, I give you joy—and as a portion, his Highness has ordered you 50 rix-dollars out of the military chest.

Fifty rix-dollars! Oh, that alters the case— that's quite another thing.

I had no thought of marrying; but this is such a prodigious great match—that I shall be proud to be Man of the House.

Well, I shall have the finest booth in the Camp; and so let's to the Chapel.

Chapel! No, we will be married in a Ca­thedral —we will, by the god of war—And then for the—grand review.

SCENE The Outside of a Cottage.

Softly, softly, our Captain shall get her, my hoy—this is the place to watch for her—for that's her father's, the old soldier's—tho', it seems, her head runs of one Rupert.

Can't help laughing, to think little Quiz is now riding the big horse.

Hush—Hush—here she comes.—

Now Olmutz, there she goes amongst the bushes— make haste.

Won't you go?

My dear Olmutz, you shall have the glory of the action all yourself—I would not rob you of a single lash you rascal.

I am glad you are come, Sir, for we are to have a grand review to-morrow—the Emperor seems prepared for hostile measures; therefore our wise and vigilant Master thinks it necessary to be prepared for to oppose them.

Oh, dear—where is Rupert to protect me?

Who's that running after a girl?—call him here, call the raseal back.

Yes, your honor—Here Olmutz—come back his Highness want's you. Why don't you come back, you rascal;—he's a very bad fellow, he would run af­ter the girl, notwithstanding all I said to him.

What have you been about? come here, you rascal.

Ay, what have you been about?—come here, you rascal.

Please Highness—corporal thought no harm to get pretty girl for officer—got her off tho'.

What officer, rascal?

New Captain, Highness.

Me, sirrah!

I thought Sir, I had found you different em­ployment.

Highness—very hard—order man to ride great horse, 'cause he can't read.

Great horse—I thought her a comely per­sonable woman—Bur, Sir, to you I must say, that I am sorry an officer should be guilty of such an act of [Page 18]dishonour—whose duty it is to protect—not to distress the fair.

Sir, give me leave.—

No, Sir, for the present I suspend your com­mission; when his Majesty arrives, he may use his pleasure.

So then, Olmutz won't be punished after all.

What Sir, arn't you married?

Not I, Highness.

Here, your Highness, comes a pretty couple that are married.

By the god of war, your Highness, I am come to thank you for all favours.

I thank your Highness for my husband and great fortune.

Yes, your Highness, but mine's the biggest.

What is all this?

Your Highness desired me to see the wedding —I have it from under your own hand—and there you are obey'd—behold your well match'd couple.

Yes, we're a pretty couple, by the god of war.

Begone Sir.

So, this is great horse, rascal?

I think, I had best take off too—or I may chance to run against a whipping post.

Well, Sir, you are from Ireland—where I know they would call this a good jest—and a joke is the leading feature of your country—I shall not on this oc­casion, differ in opinion from you—but, Sir, the young woman you have ordered to be carried away, must be restored—and I hope your future conduct won't make me repent of the desire I have to be your friend.

SCENE Mabel Flourishes.

Then it was you his Highness intended me for.

Yes, one of Darby's tricks—sent me after Flo­ra —get her for officer.

Ay, Flora, and the poor girl is now in my room putting on a suit of officer's clothes that I lent her, to elude the insults of the officers and soldiers, and vows she'll go through the world, till she find her sweetheart Rupert.—Ay, Darby's a sad villain, to lose so fine a tall fellow for little Quiz.

Ay, to loose me for him—be revenged—come to my centry-box—snug by ourselves—foot of Bridge.

Oh, fie! Olmutz—But could I depend on your honor?

You may—some one coming—not seen toge­ther.

Fine woman—make Quiz be­lieve Darby made this match to cover his own designe on his wife.

Rascal—I am told you know where Flora is that you have seized her.—Tell me of her this instant.

Darby did it, ran off with her for his Captain. Come this way—tell all I know, —now I shall be re­venged on Darby for loss of wife—make him rine big horse.

SCENE discovers NORAH.

Here I am at Jast in Silesia—and how my coming must surprize my dear Patrick! But the more unexpected the more welcome our meeting.

Very well, honey, I see the door; so perhaps I may find the room myself—You must know that I am Father Luke of Carton; but I left it to fol­low Pat, because I found he was come to Silesia to have his full swing among the girls.

My dear, I have got a most delicious cordial.— Darby gave it me.

Darby! he's a pretty fellow—so keep your mouth shut.

No, I'll open it once more.

Is that your husband!

Yes, I am,

Who married you?

The Parson; but I'm obliged to Darby.— Darby help'd me to the match.

Faith, and he helped you plentifully. But, d'ye hear?—we would not have Captain Patrick know of our arrival 'till we come smack upon him. So, d'ye [Page 22]hear—have you never a snug bit of a room in a corner, where you can put Norah?

O yes, there's my room, and a young woman in it already, that has been used ill by the soldiers.

Soldiers use women ill—who's the man of the house?

Ay, where's the man of the house?

If you can't see, put on your spectacles.

Faith and I must, for you are small print.

Small print!

Come Norah—in—in—Mabel, my dear, please to shew the way.

Oh, sir, lose no time in finding out my husband —only think of my anxiety.

Come here—what have you got in your square bottle?

'Tis fine usquebaugh—

Usquebaugh! Where did you get it— From Drogheda?

No, I had it from Darby.

Then you had it from a wicked rogue,

arn't you ashamed to ask a clergyman to drink drams. 'Tis not good, nor it can't be good—

—nor it can't be wholesome

Now, don't you be running your nose into every neighbours— both up and down the town, and bragging that you have got father Luke in your house.

No, my greatest pride is that I have got my­selt in the house.

Oh, that dam'd bell —I'll have drums and drumsticks placed in every room in the house—I will, by the god of war.

I fancy I shall soon get to the bottom of this, "For oh, it is heavenly liquor."

"And as good for me as the vicar."

Now, upon my soul, this is very comical, for you left me counting my beads in Ireland, and here you find me conning my book in Silesia.

I think its my book you are conning; but if you please. I'll read a chapter now, for I suppose by this time you have it by heart.

Oh, Darby, you are a wicked fellow; the last time I saw you was at Carton—to be fure you was in mighty haste, with the constables at your heels—but I did not think that you had so long a journey to take.

Constables! Oh, yes, very true—but I gave them the slip—I would not keep such fellows com­pany.

Ah, Darby, you was always a very great scapegrace—a sad dog.

Oh, now you talk about dogs, father Luke, pray did my little dog come back to the farm?

Your dog!

Ay, my Unicorn—we used to call him Uni­corn, you know, because he had but one ear—I had him from an attorney.

Don't ask me about your dog, you stupid fel­low —what's your dog to me?

Oh, he is not—now you'll hear.

But where's your niece, Norah—how does she—is she here, father?

Here! there's a question—no, I left her at Potsdam.

And I saw her not half an hour ago—but I'll be even with him.

But, you sly rogue, how did you find me out?— where's her husband—have you ever met him in your walks—Pat, that run away?

Ah father! I am very sorry to tell you such bad news; but poor Pat's dead.

Dead!

Ay, sad intelligence for poor Norah.

How did he die?

A pistol fever—a bullet did the business.

A pistol!—when?

Last night—Oh you're come time enough to preach the funeral sermon.

Oh, oh, where shall I find comfort—oh!

In the book.

Oh dear—Pat dead—Norah—Norah!

Why, do you think she can hear you at Pots­dam?

Oh you harden'd soul, you.

I'm sure you won't be harden'd while there's a drop to soften you.

A drop!—oh, you greedy creature, take the whole bottle. Poor Patt!

Harkey, you—do you know that I am a de­scendant of the great Hercules Quiz?—and as my great ancestor strangled a serpent in the cradle; so did I, when in mine, throttle a kitten—I was nurs'd in a mortar— have eat fire from a great gun—and made a cannon my flute, by blowing in at the touch-hole.

Amazing!—What a great hero—I am think­ing, Quiz that a wig-box will make an excellent cradle for your first child.

What do you mean by that, sir?

Lord, how big we are—now I'd as lief a man would smack my face as call me sir.

And I'd as soon do one as t'other if you'd give me occasion—I only want occasion to fight with you—I do, by the god of war.

I should think a Prussian soldier would think rascal sufficient occasion.

'I is by the god of war—where shall we meet?

By the new bridge—I'll borrow my master's pistols—do you bring your's; and then, with ourbacks to the certry-boxes, we will thunder away.

We will—and Darby I'll blow your head over the bridge into the river, and save your dirty face a washing—I will, by the god of war.

And so you are father to this girl, you say.

Yes, and she is engaged to one Rupert, a worthy fellow, who loves her; and captain Patrick's taking her away just at the time when he's come home, involves us all in great troub'e.

Who told you to?

Darby said that Olmutz took her for the officer.

Oh, that Darby is a sad lying, drunken fellow.— She's safe enough.—Norah, bring the young woman to her father.

Eh, what's the meaning of all this?—what have you been about there?—As I hope to live, you don't look like a Christian young woman.

Do I look like a Christian young man?—for that's what I want to look like.

But what's the reason of this?

To shew you a woman can run all risques, where she truly loves.

Bat why this metamorphoses?

I was not safe in the absence of Rupert—I have been insulted as a female—so assumed this habit—being well assured, that those who are so mean to insult a woman, will want the courage to attack a man.

True, Flora.

So they have had their jokes upon me; but I'll be even with Pat—for giving himself out for dead —faith I'll have a little bit of a joke with him.

Arrah, and can you be Pat—or are you his ghost? Now if you are dead, my dear boy, tell me so.

Dead! What can this mean?

Faith Pat, it's well you are come; for we heald you was dead, and Norah has been looking out for another husband—Aye, and if you had staid half an hour longer, she'd have had one, and a smart fellow he is too—and then he's so attentive, leading her into the coach and out of the coach, at every place we stopp'd at.

Dead! married in half an hour!

Aye, certainly, you would not have her live unmarried. Now ar'nt you a pretty fellow—I have heard of all your campaigning after a gooseberry girl —the Marshal putting you under an arrest, and taking the cockade out of your hat.

Dear Sir, who told you this?

Who? why who but your own man Darby; and to crown the whole, said that you had blown the roof off your head.

Master, lend me your pistols.

Yes, you rascal, you shall have them with a brace of bullets thro' your head. [Collars him] For all your lies—you told Father Luke, that I was run­ning after every wench—you are the cause of all my disgrace, by setting Olmutz after the flower girl.

I—

Ay, Sir, what have you done with my Flora? —you are the villain that took my Flora from her father's house.

I—Oh dear, why did I sell my farm?

Hey, what noise is all this—your making a disturbance in this chamber is what I don't understand —damn me.

No, what I don't understand, damn me.

Pray where is Flora?

Oh, what my little strawberry girl—she's very fond of me, a young fellow, tho' her father wants to give her to a swaggering puppy—one Rupert.

S'death, take thy deserts.

Oh, what, I suppose, this is Rupert.—Oh, you may have her again now—I'll gladly resign her to you—I assure you I want to get rid of her—for my heart is entirely devoted to another.—This night, I take the lovely Norah to my arms.

You shall take this to your heart first.

Nay, nay—have patience.

Oh let him alone—let me have fair play, and I shall be a match for both of you.

So I go on well here in the German wars— My kind countryman, Captain Patrick—buries his nuckles in my throat, and never thinks it will spoil my singing; another swings a scythe about my ears;—and little Quiz threatens to blow my head over the bridge. Oh, to be sure, I'm not in a good thriving way;—but I must contrive some method to frighten Quiz—for I must confess, I have no great inclination to have my head blown into the river.—Oh, dear, oh, dear!—I am like a blind fiddler, always in some serape.

SCENE, A country Bridge, a Centry BON on each Side.

Darby is not come yet, —I knew the fellow would be asraid to meet me! How I'll disgrace him in the campl I'll switch him thro' the ranks with a whale-bone [Page 31]ramrod—Eh—no—this is he—he's plaguy punctual.

Av, there's the enemy.

Your mortal foe—I am, by the god of war.

Put down the tools,

Tools—Take your ground.

Don't be rash—in Ireland we always settle these sort of things very cool—now to fix the grand point. When people fight, as you and I do, without seconds, if one should be kill'd, as is always the case, that the conqueror may not fall a sacrifice to the law— we have two ways of disposing of the dead gentleman: —Now you may take which you please—one way is, we dig a hole on the spot, and cover him up, sweet and wholesome uncer the sod—this we call the Galway kick—but it he don't like that, the other is—we put him into a sack and tumble him into the river, this we call the Tipperary touch.

Tipperary touch—now damn me—if I'll have either a Galway kick, or a Tipperary touch.

And now give me the blunderbuss—charged with razor blades.

Razor blades—I won't fight, by the god or war.

Not fight!

No.

Why then, let me tell you, that it is not hand­some of you to disappoint me thus.

I don't care—I'll be as ugly as the devil—but I don't like to be put sweet and wholesome under the sod.—Oh, I'm glad there's somebody coming.

Oh, this is the Priest, that I ordered to come and bury you like a christian.

I don't care, I won't be buried like a Christian.

Oh, you wicked reprobate—not be buried like a Christian!

I won't, by the god of war.

What is all this about?

What! why that wicked bloody ruffian has a design aga [...]st [...]he chastity of my virtuous wife—and when I [...] him ou [...] a-la-militare, he comes to cut, scarity and murder me with a brace of blunder bussen charged with razor blades—he does, by the god of war!

I a design!—'tis Olmutz has a design against your virtuous wife—and by her own appointment.—

No, he's my true friend.

Is he then—here goes at the centry box—I'll not bring my Razor blades for nothing.

Hey! now I see how it is, by the god of war!

Here's your true friend, and virtuous wife.

Darby your hand—Do you give Olmutz a Galway kick, and l'll give my wife a Tipperary touch.

Kick me!—Why, I came to be your second.

Get out, you rascal, or I'll shoot you, by the good of war!.—Well, and I suppose you came to be a second too.

No, indeed, husband, I was here first.

I dare be sworn you was—ay, saith, now, this is very comical—here comes Pat, and Rupert—and their wives, as if they came by design.

The young bragg [...]rt—and with North in his hand—to come thus before my face—I can contain my­self no longer—defend your worthless life.

No, sir—I'll not fight—to you I resign her, if she's willing.

Most willing—my dear Patrick!

And to you Rupert I resign myself—if Flora be worth accepting

Worth accepting—most dear to me.

My dear Patrick, why in a maze?

At this unexpected happiness, my lovely wife—but now we'll for England—and if Darby will, [Page 33]he shall attend us, where we'll return to the service of our gracious sovereign, whose life is a blessing to his people.