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Updated: June 1, 2025
Here, Honor walk in, Honor, rub your shoes always. Enter HONOR, timidly. Mrs. Carv. Bloom. Oh! child, the door: the peoples never shut a door in, Ireland! Did not I warn you? says I, "Come when you're called do as you're bid shut the door after you, and you'll never be chid." Now what did I tell you, child? Honor. To shut the door after me when I'd come into a room. Bloom.
I should have thought, Honor McBride, you were in too comfortable a way at home, to think of going into service. Honor. Mrs. Carv. Honor. Oh! ma'am, you're too good. Bloom. Take care of the bow-pot at your elbow, child; for if you break the necks of them moss roses Honor. I ax their pardon. Mrs. Carv. Better take the flower-pot out of her way, Bloomsbury. Bloom.
When I'd come now that's not dic'snary English. Mrs. Carv. Good Bloomsbury, let that pass for the present come a little nearer to me, my good girl. Honor. Yes, ma'am. Bloom. Take care of that china pyramint with your cloak walk on to Mrs. Carver no need to be afraid I'll stand your friend. Mrs. Carv.
This morning he cut his hand trying to carv our best chair into the shape of a horse. I am feeling fine and hope the reumatiz don't worry you no more. With heeps of love from me and Wellington, your wife, Maggie." It was a strange contrast in faces as the young man folded the letter and handed it back.
My master, sir, Mr. O'Blaney, is it? Will I run? Mr. Carv. No, no stand still till I have breath. What I want is a copy of a letter I dropped some where or other here I think it must have been, when I took out my handkerchief a copy of a letter to his Excellency of great consequence. Pat. What's this? an old bill: that is not it. Would it be this, crumpled up?
Old McB. You was you did, plase your honour, and I beg your honour's pardon, and Mr. Counsellor O'Blaney's. Mr. Carv. And did not you give your consent? I must think him a very ill-used person. Old McB. I gave my consint only in case he could win hers, plase your honour, and he could not and I could not break my own daughter's heart, and I beg your honour's pardon. Mr. Carv.
Philip McBride, no longer flourishing Phil; since you are now all reconciled, let me have the pleasure of giving you a reconciliation dinner, at the wedding of Honor McBride, who is an honour to her family, and Randal Rooney, who so well deserves her love. The McBRIDES and ROONIES join in the cry of Long life and great luck to your ladyship, that was always good! Mr. Carv.
Old McB. Not a fut, you sir go, Phil dear. Phil. That I will, like a lapwing, father. Mr. Carv. Where to, sir where so precipitate? Phil. Only to fetch my sister. Mr. Carv. Your sister, sir? then you need not go far: your sister, Honor McBride, is, I have reason to believe, in this house. Catty. So. Under whose protection, I wonder? Mr. Carv. Under the protection of Mrs.
He is, and will, plase your honour; only he's the boy that has got no English tongue. Mr. Carv. I wish you had none, madam, ha! ha! ha! Catty. He can't write, nor rade writing from his cradle, plase your honour; but can make his mark equal to another, sir. It has been read to him any way, sir, plase your honour. Mr. Carv.
I'm made for life I don't care what comes. Honor. Nor I: so it is not to touch you, I'm happy. Catty. Oh! your honour, spake quick, this time I beg pardon! Mr. Carv. Then I have to confess that for once I have been deceived and mistaken in my judgment of a man; and what is more, of a man's circumstances completely O'Blaney. Old McB. What of his circumstances, oh! sir, in the name of mercy? Mr.
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