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Sure, there's Wheeler, and Bursal along with him, canvassing out yonder at a terrible fine rate. And haven't I been huzzaing for you there till I'm hoarse? Talb. Now, Rory, you are the best fellow in the world, and a THOROUGH GOING friend; but have a care, or you'll get yourself and me into some scrape, before you have done with this violent THOROUGH GOING work. Rory.
At first Miss Bursal paid me a vast deal of attention; but, for what reason I know not, she suddenly changed her manner, grew first strangely cold, then condescendingly familiar, and at last downright rude. I could not guess the cause of these variations. Mrs. Talb. Louisa. But as I perceived the lady was out of tune, I was in haste to leave her.
I wish I was a hundred miles off. Landlord. You are heartily welcome, Mr. Talbot. A good morning to you, sir; I'm glad to see you very glad to see you, Mr. Talbot. Talb. Then shake hands, my honest landlord. Landlord. What's here? Guineas? Talb. The hunter, you know; since Wheeler won't pay, I must that's all. Good morning. Wheel. What a fool! Landlord. Hold, Mr. Talbot, this won't do! Talb.
Ladies, I'm sorry Miss Bursal and Mr. Bursal are come just coming upstairs. Mrs. Talb. Then, will you be so good, sir, as to unlock this door? Waiter. It must be bolted on the inside. Chambermaid! Sally! Are you within there? Unbolt this door. Mr. Bursal's voice behind the scenes. Mr. Burs. Let me have a basin of good soup directly. Waiter.
Won't it? Well, then, my watch must go. Landlord. Nay, nay! but you are in such a hurry to pay you won't hear a man. Half this is enough for your share o' the mischief, in all conscience. Mr. Wheeler, there, had the horse on the same day. Wheel. But Bursal's my witness Talb. Oh, say no more about witnesses; a man's conscience is always his best witness, or his worst.
Lord J. Related! a strange mistake, Wheeler. Talb. Overshot yourself, Wheeler; overshot yourself, by all that's awkward. And yet, till now, I always took you for "a dead-shot at a yellow-hammer."* *Young noblemen at Oxford wear yellow tufts at the tops of their caps. Hence their flatterers are said to be dead-shots at yellow-hammers. Wheel. Bursal, a word with you. Talb.
By your LAVE, my lord by your LAVE, ladies. Omnes. Huzza! Talbot and truth for ever! Huzza! Talb. Set me down! There's my mother! There's my sister! Rory. Easy, easy. Set him down? No such TING! give him t'other huzza! There's nothing like a good loud huzza in this world. Yes, there is! for, as my Lord John said just now, out of some book, or out of his own head,
No; there is one Wheeler, who, as he says, is most likely to be chosen captain. He has taken prodigious pains to flatter and win over many to his interest. My brother does not so much care about it; he is not avaricious. Mrs. Talb. I love your generous spirit and his! but, alas! my dear, people may live to want, and wish for money, without being avaricious.
Not a word: I'll make you a present of it: sure, then, it's your own. Talb. I never wrote a word of it. Rory. Phoo, Phoo! he's only denying it out of false modesty. Lord. J. Well, no matter who wrote it, sing it again. Rory. Be easy; so I will, and as many more verses as you will to the back of it. Rory sings, and Lord John sings with him.
I'm as cool as a cucumber all the time; and whilst they tink I'm tinking of nothing in life but making a noise, I make my own snug little remarks in prose and verse, as now my voice is after coming back to me, you shall hear, if you plase. Talb. I do please. Rory. I call it Rory's song.
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