Tales and Novels Volume VIII Part 16

"Yes," said Lord Oldborough, "_now_ I am happy--_now_, I also, Mr.

Percy, may be proud of a son--I too shall know the pleasures of domestic life. Now I am happy!" repeated he,

"And, pleased, resigned To tender pa.s.sions all his mighty mind."

_March 26th, 1813._

END OF PATRONAGE.

COMIC DRAMAS.

LOVE AND LAW

A DRAMA.

IN THREE ACTS.

DRAMATIS PERSONae

MEN.

MR. CARVER, of Bob's Fort . . _A Justice of the Peace in Ireland._ OLD MATTHEW McBRIDE . . . . _A rich Farmer._ PHILIP McBRIDE . . . . . _His Son._ RANDAL ROONEY . . . . . _Son of the Widow Catherine Rooney --a Lover of Honor McBride._ MR. GERALD O'BLANEY . . . . _A Distiller._ PATRICK c.o.xE . . . . . _Clerk to Gerald O'Blaney._

WOMEN.

MRS. CARVER . . . . . _Wife of Mr. Carver._ MISS BLOOMSBURY . . . . . _A fine London Waiting-maid of Mrs. Carver's._ MRS. CATHERINE ROONEY, _commonly called_ CATTY ROONEY . . . . _A Widow--Mother of Randal Rooney._ HONOR McBRIDE . . . . . . _Daughter of Matthew McBride, and Sister of Philip McBride._

A Justice's Clerk--a Constable--Witnesses--and two Footmen.

LOVE AND LAW

ACT I.

SCENE I.

_A Cottage.--A Table--Breakfast._

_HONOR McBRIDE, alone._

_Honor._ Phil!--(_calls_)--Phil, dear! come out.

_Phil._--(_answers from within_) Wait till I draw on my boots!

_Honor._ Oh, I may give it up: he's full of his new boots--and singing, see!

_Enter PHIL McBRIDE, dressed in the height of the Irish buck-farmer fas.h.i.+on, singing,_

"Oh the boy of Ball'navogue!

Oh the dasher! oh the rogue!

He's the thing! and he's the pride Of town and country, Phil McBride-- All the talk of shoe and brogue!

Oh the boy of Ball'navogue!"

There's a song to the praise and glory of your--of your brother, Honor!

And who made it, do you think, girl?

_Honor._ Miss Caroline Flaherty, no doubt. But, dear Phil, I've a favour to ask of you.

_Phil._ And welcome! What? But first, see! isn't there an elegant pair of boots, that fits a leg like wax?--There's what'll plase Car'line Flaherty, I'll engage. But what ails you, Honor?--you look as if your own heart was like to break. Are not you for the fair to-day?--and why not?

_Honor._ Oh! rasons. (_Aside_) Now I can't speak.

_Phil._ Speak on, for I'm dumb and all ear--speak up, dear--no fear of the father's coming out, for he's leaving his _bird_ (i.e. beard) in the bason, and that's a work of time with him.--Tell all to your own Phil.

_Honor._ Why then I won't go to the fair--because--better keep myself to myself, out of the way of meeting them that mightn't be too plasing to my father.

_Phil._ And might be too plasing to somebody else--Honor McBride.

_Honor._ Oh, Phil, dear! But only promise me, brother, dearest, if you would this day meet any of the Rooneys--

_Phil._ That means Randal Rooney.

_Honor._ No, it was his mother Catty was in my head.

_Phil._ A bitterer scould never was!--nor a bigger lawyer in petticoats, which is an abomination.

_Honor._ 'Tis not pritty, I grant; but her heart's good, if her temper would give it fair play. But will you promise me, Phil, whatever she says--you won't let her provoke you this day.

_Phil._ How in the name of wonder will I hinder her to give me provocation? and when the spirit of the McBrides is up--

_Honor._ But don't lift a hand.