Enter DERMOT, from the House, R. S. E.

Dar. Yes, Dermot's a bad man and an ugly Christian. F. Luke. Come here, Dermot, take your mug, you empty fellow: I am going to marry Kathlane here, and you must give her away.

Der. Give her away! I must have her first, and it was to ask your consent that I

F. Luke. Eh, what! you marry her! no such thingput it out of your head.

Der. If that's the case, Father Luke, the two sheep that I intended as a present for you, I'll drive to the fair to-morrow, and get drunk with the money. [Going. F. Luke. [Pauses.] Hey, two sheep! [Aside.] Come back here; it's a sin to get drunk.-Darby, if you've nothing to do, get about your business.

Dar. Sir!

F. Luke. Dermot, child! Is'nt it this evening, I am to marry you to Kathlane?

Dar. (L.) Him! why, lord, sir, it's me that you're to marry to her.

F. Luke. You, you ordinary fellow !

Dar. Yes, sir, you know I'm to give you

F. Luke. [Apart to Dermot.] Two sheep? [Loud to Darby.] You don't marry Kathlane.

Dar. No!

F. Luke. (c.) No, 'tis two to one against you. So get away, Darby.

Kat. and Der. (R.) Ay, get away, Darby.

F. Luke. [To Kathlane and Dermot.] Children, I expect Capt. Fitzroy at my house, for my niece Norah, and I'll couple you all, as soon as I clap my thumb upon matrimony.

QUARTETTE.-FATHER LUKE, DERMOT, DARBY, and KATHLANE.

Kat. to Der. You the point may carry

To Dar.

Cho.

If a while you tarry..

But for you

I tell you true,—

No, you I'll never marry.
You the point, &c.

Der.

Cho.

Dar.

Cho.

F. Luke.

Care our souls disowning,
Punch our sorrows drowning,
Laugh and love,

And ever prove

Joys, joys our wishes crowning.
Care our, &c.

To the church I'll hand her,

[Offers to take her hand, she refuses.

Then through the world I'll wander,—
I'll sob and sigh

Until I die,

A poor forsaken gander.

To the church, &c.

Each pious priest since Moses
One mighty truth discloses,-
You're never vex'd,

If this the text,

Go fuddle all your noses.

Cho

Each pious, &c.

[Exeunt, R. dancing.

SCENE III.-A Grove.

Enter FITZROY, L.

Fit. Who can this challenger be? Some haymaker, perhaps, meet me with a reaping-hook, ha, ha, ha ! Bag. [Without, R.] Venez ici.

Fit. [Looking out.] Eh, my man Bagatelle. Ah, the officious puppy, I suppose, has heard of the affair, and is come to prevent mischief, [Retires, L.S. E. Bag. [Without.] Come along, Monsieur Darby.

Enter DARBY, with a pistol, and BAGATELLE, with a sword, R.

Dar. Mr. Bag and Tail,

Bag. Well?

Dar. When I fall, as to be sure I shall—that is, if Pat's second is as wicked as I am, bring my body to Dermot and Kathlane's wedding.

Bag. I vill, Monsieur Darby.

Dar. But do you think I may be killed?
Bag. Very like.

Dar. Hem!-He's not here-we'll go home.

Bag. Ah, ha! first I vill fight him vid de pistol, and den I vill fight vid de sword.

Dar. I'd rather you'd fight him with the sword first. Bag. Pourquoi-why so?

Dar. Because I long to see a little sword play, and, if you should be killed with the pistols, then I'm disappointed.

Fit. [Aside.] Can Bagatelle be the challenger?

Dar. When Pat shoots, I get behind you. [Stands at his back.] You're cursed thin,- -one might as well stand behind a pitch-fork; I wish you were fatter.

Bag. Ah, Diable! would you have me Dutchman ? Dar. Indeed, I would, upon this occasion-I'd rather fight behind a Dutch weaver than a French churchwarden.

Bag. Soldier Pat did bid me valk out of de vindre.Ah, ha, begar! I vill make him valk out of de vorld. Fit. [Advances.] Servant, gentlemen. Bag. Ah, sacre Dieu! mon maitre !

Fit. So you send challenges, you rascal.

[Shows letter to Darby. Dar. Me, sir! Not I, sir-Oh, yes, sir, I-No, sir, I got it from Monsieur Bag and tail.

[Frightened. Fit. [To Bagatelle.] Had you the impudence to write such a letter as this?

Bag. Non, Monsieur-Sir Lofty's coachee.

Fit. Coachman, sirrah!

Bag. Oui, monsieur-I vill tell your honour touchant cet affaire. Sir, I was

Dar. Hold your jabbering-I'll tell the whole story in three words. Sir, you must know, Pat, the soldierNo-Monsieur Bag and Tail-was-Father Luke's house-come up stairs-no-Norah bid him-says Pat, says he. [To Bagatelle.] What did he say? Oh, she shut the door-out of the window: and, before Pat could-no--after-how was it? [To Bagatelle.

Bag. Oui, dat vas de whole affair.

Dur. Yes, sir, that was the whole affair.

Fit. Upon my word, very clearly explained.
Dar. Yes, I didn't go to school for nothing.

Fit. I find my little Norah is the object of universal gallantry.

Bag. Ah, monsieur, pardonnez moi!
Fit. Get to your business, sirrah.

D

[Aside.

Bag. Ah malheureux !

[Exit, R.

Dar. [Calling out.] Yes, monsieur, you'd better stick to the curling-irons.

Fit. Yes, my friend, and you had better stick to your flail and spade than meddle with sword and pistol. None but gentlemen should have privilege to murder one another in an honourable way; but, when duelling thus descends, let them be ashamed of a practice, the fatal consequences of which precludes him from hope of mercy who dies in the commission of a premeditated crime, and delivers the survivor to the sharpest pains of [Going.

remorse.

Dar. One word, sir, if you please.

Fit. [Returning.] Well, my honest friend?

Dar. Now, sir, Kathlane's quite lost, I'll leave it to you which of the two, Dermot or I, is the prettiest boy for it?

Fit. Ha, ha, ha! Stupid scoundrel !

[Exit, R.

Dar. Stupid scoundrel! You a captain! Halloo, corporal! [Calls after Fitzroy.

Re-enter FITZROY, R.

Fit. [Threatening.] How!

Dar. [Turning and calling to the other side.] I say, you corporal.

[Exit Fitzroy, R. Dar. Such a swaggerer! Ay, I must go to town, and learn to talk to these people.

AIR-DARBY. [Sometimes omitted.]

Since Kathlane has prov'd so untrue,
Poor Darby, ah! what can you do!
No longer I'll stay here a clown,
But sell off, and gallop to town:
I'll dress, and I'll strut with an air,—
The barber shall frizzle my hair.

In Dublin I'll cut a great dash ;
But how for to compass the cash?
At gaming, perhaps, I may win,-
With cards I can take the flats in;
Or trundle false dice and they're nick'd:
If found out, I shall only be kick'd.

But, first, for to get a great name,
A duel establish'd my fame ;

To my man, then, a challenge I'll write,
But, first, I'll take care he won't fight:
We'll swear not to part till we fall,

Then shoot with our powder, and-the devil a ball.

[Exit, R.

SCENE IV.-Inside of Father Luke's House.

F. Luke. [Within, L.] Ay, I'll teach you to run after soldiers.

Nor. [Within, L.] Dear sir!

Enter FATHER LUKE and NORAH, L.

Father L. Come along. If you won't have Captain Fitzroy, you go to Boulogne. Pat, the soldier, indeed! I'll send you to a convent-I will, by my function.

Nor. Sir, I am contented:

Father L. Contented! Very fine. So you put me into a passion, and now you're contented. Go-get in there, Mrs. Knapsack. [Puts her in, and locks the door. Taps at the door with the key.] Consent to marry Captain Fitzroy, or there you stay till I ship you for France.

Enter FITZROY, R.

Fit. Eh, Father Luke! Who's going to France? F. Luke. Only a young lady here within, sir, that's a little refractory. She won't marry you, sir, but I

Fit. Refuse my hand! Well, that I did not expect. But do you resign her to me, sir?

F. Luke. There, with that key, I deliver up my authority. [Gives key.] And now, if I can find Mr. Patrick, her soldier, he goes to the county gaol for a vagabond. A jade! to lose the opportunity of making herself a lady, and me a bishop. [Exit, R.

Fit. Oh, here is her soldier. Now "I must seem cruel only to be kind."

Enter PATRICK, R. U. E.

Pat. Well, sir, by your advice, I have ventured here, like a spy, into the enemy's camp.