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A sacret pipe I've got fixed to the big veshel, and the pipe goes under the wall for me into the tan-pit, and a sucker I have in the big veshel, which I pull open by a string in a crack, and lets all off all clane into the tan-pit. Pat. That's capital! but the water? O'Bla.
Ay, that's what I hard that he is mighty fond of talking to people for their good. Now that's what I dread, for I can't stand being talked to for my good. O'Bla. 'Tis little use, I confess. We Irish is wonderful soon tired of goodness, if there's no spice of fun along with it; and poor Carver's soft, and between you and I, he's a little bothered, but, Mrs. Rooney, you won't repate? Catty. Repate!
And I'll keep her a jaunting car to ride about the country; and in another year, as my fortune's rising, my wife should rise with it into a coach of her own. Old McB. Oh! if I'd live to see my child, my Honor, in a coach of her own! I'd be too happy oh, I'd die contint! O'Bla. Old McB. Ah! you know that, then. That's all that's against us, sir, in this match. O'Bla.
Old McB. Quite and clane and stiff, I thank my God; and I'm glad, in spite of the vowel before your name, Mr. O'Blaney, to hear you are of the same kidney. O'Bla. I'm happy to find myself agreeable to you, sir. Old McB. But, however agreeable to me, as I won't deny, it might be, sir, to see my girl made into a gentlewoman by marriage, I must observe to you O'Bla.
'Tis dangerous for a young man to be telling more lies than is absolutely requisite. The lie superfluous brings many an honest man, and, what's more, many a cliver fellow, into a scrape and that's your great fau't, Pat. Pat. Which, sir? O'Bla. That, sir. I don't see you often now take a glass too much. But, Pat, I hear you often still are too apt to indulge in a lie too much. Pat. Lie!
Then all this time I'm sensible I've been behaving and looking little better than like a fool, or an innocent. But I hope I won't be so bad when the lady shall speak to me. GERALD O'BLANEY'S Counting-house. O'BLANEY alone. O'Bla. Then I wonder that ould Matthew McBride is not here yet. But is not this Pat Coxe coming up yonder? Ay. Well, Pat, what success with Catty? Enter PAT COXE, panting.
In my humble opinion you cannot do better; and I can tell you a secret Honor will have no contemptible fortune in that rank of life. O'Bla. Oh, fortune's always contemptible in marriage. Mr. Carv. Fortune! sir? O'Bla. Mr. Carv. That you may depend upon, my good Gerald, as far as we can go; but you know we are nothing. O'Bla.
Then I am poor Gerald in point of wit, I know; but you are too good a friend to be calling me poor to ould McBride you can say what I can't say. Mr. Carv. Certainly, certainly; and you may depend on me. I shall speak my decided opinion; and I fancy McBride has sense enough to be ruled by me. O'Bla. I am sure he has only there's a Randal Rooney, a wild young man, in the case.
Add to this, my regular battle every fair-day with the crane, which ought to be any where but where it is; and my perputual discoveries of fraudulent kegs, and stones in the butter! Now, sir, I only ask, can you wonder that I wipe my forehead? O'Bla. In troth, Mr. Carver, I cannot!
Take your own time, my good Matthew I'll be as slow as you plase only love's quick. Old McB. Slow and sure love and all fast bind, fast find three and two, what does that make? O'Bla. It used to make five before I was in love. Old McB. And will the same after you're married and dead. What am I thinking of?
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