TW W\^>\^v^^6J^ If^ I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ODDEQS^^so^ XI THE IRISHMAN IN LONDON; OR, THE HAPPY AFRICAN : A FARCE, IN TWO ACTS. BY WILLIAM M'GREADY, AS PEB70BMZO AT TBS PHII.AD£Li>HIii THBATBK, PHILADELPHIA : rVBUSEEB BI THOVAS H. lAItlllX, 18S1. %1a Ob '3^^^ DRAMATIS PERSONiE. Philadelphia. Captain Seymour Mr. Baker, Mr. CoUoony ^^. Varley. ^'■•^^''u'^^r^V ^^' Francis. Murtoch Delany Mr, Burke. ^^^^^ Mr. Jefferson. ^y^^^ Mr.Blissett. J^^^if? • Mrs. Baker. ^^™^n^ • Miss Seymour. ^^^^^ • • Mrs. Francit. I • I • I ' I • I • I THE IRISHMAN m LONDON ACT I. scKNE I— fl Street, alter seymour. Seym, Welcome, once more, my native country ! being immured three long months on board a ship, makes land appear more delightful than even our fan- cy can pant it. Yet am I almost insensible to the pleasure, from being at so great a distance from my beloved Caroline. Oh, Jamaica, happy place ! whicri contains all that is dear to me on earth. Her cruel father must have intercepted the letters I wrote from America — or she would have contrived to let her Seymour know, she still retained the same tender af- fection for him — good heaven ! is it possible ? ha ! rea- son contradicts my sense of seeing, and tells my eyes they are deceived — 'tis he ! enter mr. frost. Dear sir, my joy at seeing the parent of my Caro- line so unexpectedly — Frost. This assurance is past bearing ; damn it, I never am to be h^ippy — I left the West-Indies to live in quiet, and here, one of the first things that pre- sents itself, is the person of all oihers i wish to avoid. But my daughter is in my power, and shall marry the man 1 have selected for her directly— Pil take care of her happiness. A 2 6 IRISHMAN [M'Cready Seym. Great care, indeed, to sacrifice her against her inclinations to some wretch. But, who is he ? let me know where—. Frost, No matter who he is, or what he is; or where he lives, or where I live ; you know but little of my family at present, and I am determined you shall know less. Seym, Will you listen to common sense or reason? Frost, Yes; who have you brought that can speak them ? Seym, Come, come, sir, what objection can you make to me ? my family is unexceptionable. Frost, That may be — but you are a younger bro- ther. Seym, Thei:, sir, my character and principles are, 1 hope Frost. Such as most of our modern youths, who launch into all the luxury and excesses of the town, and then are obliged to fiy the country, while the hon- est tradesman and industrious mechanic sink into pe- nury and wretchedness. Seym, I am acquainted with none such, nor do I ever cordially reckon a man in the list of my friends, who could turn away from the cries of the needy, or shut the open hand of mercy from the poor. Frost. You don't marry my daughter — therefore be satisfied. Seym, Sir, my family is good, my conduct irre- proachable, my fortune tolerable, and then, sir, I have the honour to bear a commission in Frost, That— that's one thing about you, I don't like, the army. How could your sensible head ever think of that ^ to go and be shot at— oh ! Seym. Come, come, sir ; don't attempt to ridicule a profession which is the pride of every nation. — What youth, possessed of the least spirit, would re- maiQ inactive, when the sons of our sovereign set so glorious at) example, by qualifying themselves to as- Act I] IN LONDON. 7 sist in defending theirnative country, in the field and on the ocean. Frost. Gad, I believe he is not so bad as I thought him ; but Liny is engaged, nn? word given to a young fellow with a fine fortune, and I always retain that principle of honour, to serve my friends, when, in so doing, I doubly serve myself. [exit Seym. Astonishing ! 'tis some comfort, however, to know she is in England. I would follow him, but it is now the precise time Mr. Wilson appointed to meet me, as second to the gentleman who has challenged my friend, lieutenant Corbett ; and here must I continue, though at the expense of happiness, or, perhaps, be disgraced, for a violation of the most pernicious cus- tom ever regarded in a civilized nation. enter edward. Ed%v. Oh, sir, such news ! miss Caroline is in town, has been here these two months — I found it out by the greatest chance. Seym. How, how ? Edw, Why, sir, I met Cymon, pretended to him that I had left you in America, and he told me they were all come ; and that there was great doings preparing for an elegant young fellow from Ireland, who was to marry mihs Cnroline immediately, Seym, By heavens! no such circumstance ever shall take place ; and how to prevent it ? Edward, you, in general, have a happy invention, and I am certain if you exert it you might gain me an interview, or, at all events, some farther intelligence. Edw. {sings) '^ The perquisite softens us into con- sent." Ah, my invention and genius are at present employed contrivnig how I shall avoid the civilities of my tailor, shoemaker, washerwoman, and a few other friends, whom I left rather abruptly. Now they'll renew their former mode of paying their re- spects to me ; and though I never return one visit, they'll still continue their kind inquiries. If I had but « IRISHMAN [M'Cready a few guineas to satisfy those gentry, my mind would be easy, my person free; and thus. disencumbered I should most certainly devise means to deliver from my master a letter to his dear Caroline, before she consults her downy pillow this night. Seym. My honest fellow, make good your words, and twenty guineas shall be your reward. Edw. Twenty guineas! twenty ? she has — or I mean she shall have the letter. Write it, sir, write it — let me have it. Seym. While I stop to write, be very particular in observing any gentleman that maybe hereabouts; and if he should seem at a loss, direct him to me, or come directly for me. Ediv. Oh Lord ! oh, sir, yonder I see my tailor — I told you these people would impede my march, if I was not prepared for them. Dear me, how shall I avoid him ? Seym, Avoid him ! who is he ? what's his name ^ Edw. His name is a — the — oh damn it, 'tis very odd I never can remember the name of a man 1 owe money to — that is, when I am poor ; for then I am al- ways dejected at the sight of them. But when I have money, and can pay them, I face them as bold as a lion. How do you do, says I, how do you do? Seym. W^ith those principles 'tis a pity you should ever want. Here, take this, and observe my direc- tions, while I write the letter. [exit Ediv, I will, sir — what's here? ten guineas! Mr. Snip ! oh, he's off some other way, and Fll be damn'd if I call him back. Let me see ; ten guineas ! my master is a noble fellow — I wish he was a general, then his pocket might keep pace with his heart : at present, the one is always a day's march behind the other. But how shall 1 contrive to deliver his letter? no matter — I'll trust to chance, and convince him, with all his dej^pair, That English wit, how'er despised by some, Like English valour, still shall overcome. {exit Act I] IN LONDON. 9 enter colloony. ColL Oh London, London, dear London, as Ercher says, had I nrjillions, Pd spend it all there— it's the mert for enjoyment. The leedies so bewitching, the squeers so elegant, the theatres so enchanting, the players so greet, and, in short, every thing so capti- vating, that I wish from my heart 1 may never leave it. Where is this servant of mine I I decleer there is no bearing his inattention. I desired him to meet me here at this time precisely ; 'pon my honour, I must no longer neglect visiting Mr. Frost and the leedies. MURTOCH, singing without. We Irishmen, both high and low, we are both neat and handy, The ladies, every where we go, allows we are the dandy ; To be sure we are, and indeed wx are. enters, ColL Indeed I'll break your thick head if you don't hold your tongue, and till me did you find the filece^ and bring me the money ? Murt, Well, well, I will, sir. The— a— och, sir, I wish we were at home again. This is the devil of a place. ColL I say, sirrah, have you found the banker^s I Murt. No, in troth, sir. ColL No! pray, thin, where's the chick I gave you } Murt, Where ! why sure, sir, you did not bid me keep it ? ^ ColL I bid you give it to the banker, and bring the money ; where is it? Murt, Why, Til tell you, sir — the truth is, I did not give him the check— nor the devil a farthing he gave me — for I didn't see him at all, at all. ColL Was there iver such a provoking scoundrel ! tell me this moment, where, and what you have been about } 10 IRISHMAN [M'Cready Murt, Och, faith ! and I have been about, and tum- bled about bravely ; for the people here walk the streets as if they couldn't see — for one parson gave me a drive on one side, and when I only turned to ax him what he done that for, another gave me a shoul- der with his elbow on the t'other side : so, upon my soul, sir, I was going backward every step I went for- ward. But at last I saw a crowd staring up, so my- self ax'd decently what was the matter — stop, and luck up, says the man, and you'll see : myself did so, and there was too black pictures of men, with shille- lahs in their fists, thumping at one another because the clock was striking. When it had done, they had done, and I was done, yes, faith, and finely done, for I found they picked my pocket of the chick that I held fast in my hand, and every thing I had in the world ; and the hat off my head into the bargain. Coll. The rascal has been gaping about instid of minding his business — I will most certainly send you home. Dill. Murt, Och ! worrow do, sir, send me home ; but mind, I won't go to sea, I got enough of that ; if once I get to sweet Ballinrobe, the devil burn me if ever I wish to see foreign parts again, or any, but our netrel parts at home — to be sure, it is the sweetest little place in the world, Ireland is. ColL Why, you scoundrel, do you want to bring a mob about us ? hold your tongue about Ireland, I say — go wait at home for me, and don't be exposing— Murt. Exposing to talk of Ireland ! faith, sir, beg- ging your pardon, I think a man does not desarve to belong to any country, that's ashamed to own it. [exit ColL 1 am of Murtoch's opinion, but he is lik^ other partial fools praising his country this moment and dis- gracing it the next ; I wish to prove by actions in- stead of words, that Ireland is the soil for virtue, not vice, to flourish in. Act I] IN LONDON. 11 enter seymour. Seym, I have dispatch'd Edward with tiy letter, and shall be all anxiety till he returns. This, I sup- pose, is the gentleman froni Mr. Wilson — sir, I en- treat your pardon, I saw you in conversation, so pre- sumed to finish my letter. ColL Pray, sir, meek no apologies, as we are short- ly to be closely connected. They are quite unneces- sary, {aside) Ton my honour, he looks very young for the lady's father ; but perhaps he is her brother, and that's the same thing. Seym, Sir, I sincerely wish every thing to be ami- cably settled. ColL Amicably ? by my word, but there's no fear of that. When people are willing, you know it re- quires no time to make up their minds, however aw- ful the occasion may be. Seym, Awful indeed, sir ; but I hoped the whole af- fair might drop where it began, and no more be thought of it on either side. ColL Drop, sir ! 'pon my honour, with my consent, it never shall drofi^ at least I hope we shallnot be so far in the fashion, as to part until one or other is dead. Seym, How positive gentlemen of Ireland are in cases of this nature ! I can't say, sir, but I am heartily concerned to see you so strenuous in a bad cause. ColL A bad cause? now I think it a very good cause — and one I'll not easily relinquish ; for though I don't know I have any violent affection for the ob- ject, yet I can't submit to such an imposition on my understanding. Seym, Well, sir, since this is your determination, please to mention your time and place. ColL That, sir, shall be solely as you please. Seym, What if we refer it to the principals to settle. ColL With all my heart ; because, as I am one. 12 IRISHMAN [M'Cready I know my own resolution, and I hope the lady knows hers. Seym, The lady, sir ? what lady ? ColL Why the lady we're talking about, and that I'm going to be married to. Seym, Sir, I beg pardon ; but we are in a strange error. Pray, did not you come here as second in an affair of honour between two gentlemen } Coll, 'Pon my soul, sir, I did not ; I came as first in an affair of honour between a lady and myself; I was inquiring for her father, who lives somewhere in this neighborhood. I hope, sir, you'll excuse this mistake. Seym, Sir, 'twas a mutual error, therefore apolo- giesare useless — it's probable some half-witted genius has led us into this blunder — sir, your obedient. ' [exit ColL Sir, your humble servant — I must return to mv apartment for the address of my intended father- in-law. Oh, I wish the jackanapes that caused this confusion between myself and that gentleman, was within the reach of my keen^ I'd larn him that the greatest blunder an Irishman could commit, would be to neglect chastising the impartinent puppy that of- fends him. [exit SCENE II— a chamber. CAROLINE, LOUISA, and cuBBA discovercd, Loui, Well, Caroline, I vow you are almost ridi- culous — fretting to such a degree about a man, that, in all human probability, has been in love with twenty women since you parted, and may be happily marri- ed f .r ought you know. Car. No, no ; my Seymour is too honorable — so true and faithful is he, that a blister would appear on his lips should falsehood touch *em. Loui, Very pathetic indeed ! but for all his truth and tender lips, many a good fib has he swallowed in Act I] IN LONDON. 13 his life, that was in no danger of choking him. Nay, no tears, you know how sincerely I feel for you. Car. Oh, Louisa, where is the soul that can con- ceive my sufferings ? the sun that cheers the whole creation, affords no comfort to the unfortunate Car- oline. Loui. Compare your situation with mine, and your sufferings must seem light — deprived at an early age of my parents, and the small property left me, how wretched should I have been but for your friendship, that procured your father's bounty for an unfortunate orphan, whose thankful heart will cherish an impres- sion of gratitude while life remains. Cud. Missa, you frette so, you make a de rain come in poor Cubba yies. JLoui. Oh dear ! I wish with all my heart Seymour would come and run away with you — we lead a most painful life, for if your father suffers us to go into the park, we are obliged to walk stately and look directly before us, like a pair of coach horses newly harnessed for a state day ; yet, though I rally you, I can't bear the thoughtsofyour having this young Irishman, whom you have never seen, and perhaps can never like; and indeed he may not like you ; but to please two old fools, you reluctantly take each other for better for worse—when you'd rather let it alone. Car, Take him ! never. Were he the most ac- complished of men, 1 could be inspired with no senti- ment but pity for him. Cub. Missee, you pity great man } he no good — me pity poor black, he no do good — run away — he get whip and chain — why every body no be happy like me? LouL You only say so, Cubba— you are not happy — you don't love your mistress. Cud. Decree me, my mout no big enough for me say how much me love my missa. Loui. Honest creature ! what a pity it is all your count rv a'n't as good as you. B 14 IRISHMAN [M'Cready Cub, Good, bad, all colours. Bochro read great big book, tell him how he can be good — for all dat, some do very bad— poor black no understand read — how they know good from bad, when them massa no show them good zample ? Loui, But, Cubba, what will you do when your mis- tress marries Mr. Colloony and goes to Ireland ? Cub, Me go too — me leave my country and friend for sake of my missa — me follow her all the world over-— missa be every ting to poor Cubba. Car, How can you, Louisa, mention such a cir- cumstance, even in jest, when you know my senti* ments ? Loui. Perhaps your sentiments and mine may be so congenial, that the old gentleman's schemes may be defeated, and you be happy with your Seymour ; for however he may rove, a good soldier will always return to his head-quarters. enter frost. Frost, Come, cheer up, Liny — your lover cer- tainly will be here to-day — the knot shall be tied to- morrow. Car. Dear sir, don^t expose your Caroline to the misery of refusing, when nature powerfully informs her, 'tis her duty to obey — indeed, indeed, I^never can love this Mr. Colloony. Frost, How do you know ? you have never seen him — why, he is young, handsome, rich ^' Car, Mention not his qualifications, sir, for ray heart is engaged. Frost, Yes, and my word is engaged — the young fellow coming all the way from Ireland on purpose— a fine settlement made on you — is not that better than starving with your Seymour ? Car, Poverty with him, sir, is preferable to a pal- ace without him — he loves me. Frost, You're mistaken, its my money he loves — but he'll never touch a shilling of it, that I am re- solved. Act I] IN LONDON. 15 Car, I don't know what your resolution may be, but mine is unalterably fix'd — dear sir, I have only to entreat you will give up the idea of plunging me in wretchedness — remember youVe a father, sir, and that indulgence should ever unite with that name. [exit Cub, Ah ! poor missee, she be so good — still she cry great deal — Bochro do wrong, laugh and be hap- py — nobody ought to be merry when missee frettee. [jsxit Frost, Ay, follow he>, you — you — whenever I am vext, or in trouble, that angel of darkness is sure to come in my way; I tell her every hour that she i§ in a blessed land of liberty, that she's her own mistress, free as air, in hopes I shall get rid of her ; but she won't stir — no, she sticks like bird lime — then, that curst Cymon comes with his similes — there was neigh- bor Diggins robbed last night, by mistake ; for I'm sure 'twas my house they meant to attack. Oh dear ! oh dear ! I shall have my throat cut ! they'll be with me to-night — was there ever such a little, wretched, unfortunate old man ! Loui, La, sir, you frighten yourself with shadows- why should the thieves mean to rob you ? Frost, I know they did— I know it — I am misera— no, no, I am happy — you make me happy — you are to me, a — a — a sun without a spot — a— heaven 'vith- out a cloud \ Loui, This is a change indeed ! you were but this momfent declaring you were a wretched, unfortunate, little old man. Frost, No, I am not old— fifty or so, no age for a man — Liny distracts me so, I am determined to mar- ry. I may live these forty years. Loui, A pretty prospect that, for your poor wife that is to be. {aside) Frost. And if you would take compassion on mCj and do yourself justice— 16 IRISHMAN [M'Cready Loiii. Oh, sir ! if I take compassion on you, I hope you'll do me justice ! Frost. That I will—you know in the West-Indies I administered justice — I was there a justice of peace. Loui. Yes ; but not just now. Frost. Oh, no, not in office — but the settlement you shall have, can be equalled by nothing but my love — I do love you beyond Loui. Don't say so, you wish to deceive me ; a true lover would hang or drown himself, break his neck, poison, or stab himself in a fit of despair ; would you do any of these ? Fvost. Eh ? if you'll marry me perhaps I may ; who knows what good things time may bring about. Loui. Ah! there's little good to be expected from him — I never knew the old gentleman with his scythe and his glass, bring any thing but grey hairs, thin cheeks, wrinkles, and loss of teeth. Frost. That's true ; and you don't know what a ter- rible thing it is to be an old maid. Loui. No ; nor I hope I never shall, (knock) Frost. Hark ! there's somebody coming. Will you promise me an interview ^ I have something very particular to say to you — we'll be quite private — nay, do now, now Loui. Well, sir, you may expect me. Frost. Oh ! my charmer, I'm distracted — oh ! — {kisses her hand) adieu ! Loui. Adieu — I'm much mistaken if I don't cure the gentleman of his love fits before I have done with him. lexie Frost. Oh, she loves me, it's too plain — I have long suspected it. What a very engaging, agreeable, nice, handsome, little fellow I must be, to captivate so sweet a girl. enter cymon. What do you want ? who was that knocked at the door ? Act I] IN LONDON. 17 Cymon. A man, sir ; he gave me this as nimble as a fencing master, and hopped away like a dancing master. Frost. Oh curse your similes! let me see, from Mr. Coiloony — that's delightful (reads) *' Sir, my anxiety to take you by the hand, can only be equalled by my passionate desire to see your amiable daugh- ter, and with the speedy assistance of Hymen, shall glory in the liberty of being her slave. The earliest moment possible 1 hope to make acceptable, to Mr. Frost, the devoirs of his truly devoted and most as- sured humble servant, William Patrick O'Brien Coi- loony." — Oh, he's a fine ardent lover ! they shall be married to-morrow morning. D'ye hear, Cymon ? take care every thing is ready for the reception of your new master. How does my purchase come on, the coach-horses? Cymon. Troth, sir, bad enough — they are only fit for the crows. One of them, the sorrel horse, puts me woundily in mind of a lawyer. Frost, A lawyer ? how now, how can that be ? Cymon. Why, sir, he is well paid for every journey he goes ; and the other is downright game, for he'd sooner die than run. Frost. Have done, sir, or Fll brain you — this fellow makes me*as melancholy— Cymon, As an owl at noon-day — now, your honour, I'm as merry as a mouse at midnight. Frost. That's always the case— I am never out of humour, but you are as pleased as Cymon. As a peasant with a plumb cake at Christ- mas, or an old lady on her wedding day. Frost. Will any body take this fellow from me? I'll change your tune! I'll make you as sorrowful as-— ~ Cymon, As a young bride with an old husband. Frost, Oh ! you damn*d dog, where did you get that ? that's the worst of all. {knock) Go to the doer, I say. B 2 18 IRISHMAN [M'Cready Cymon. Yes, sir — I think I am as whimsical to-day as a merry- Andrew's coat. [^exit Frost. That fellow's as bad to me as the gout — I can find no cure for him. enter gym on. Cymon, Sir, sir— here's a grand gentleman dressed like a peacock, and talks like a magpie. Frost. Was there ever such an affronting scoun- drel ! show him in. [exit Cymon It must be Mr. Colloony — I say, Cubba, send your mistress to me immediately. Oh, dear, this is lucky. enter Caroline. Car. Did you send for me, sir ? Frost. Yes, yes, here's Mr. Colloony— it can be no- body else. enter edward, dressed in a tawdry manner. Sir, I rejoice to see you — how do you ? so is my daugh- ter indeed, sir, though she says nothing — why the devil don't you speak ? Car. Sir, I— I Fdw. I have got into the house at all events, and must trust to impudence for the rest, (jaside) Frost. Liny, my love, naa, now, do oblige your poor father — sir, she's excessively fond of you ; but she naturally expects you to speak first. Edw, Certainly, my dear sir — fond of me ! oh, ho! then I must be in love — here goes, {aside) Oh, ma- dam ! you're such a beauty, so full of charms, so all over engaging, such a shape, such a hand, such sym- metry, such eyes, such lips, such smiles, such frowns, such love, such — oh ! I'm quite out of breath. Frost. Well dam'me, but he's a comical fellow ! how he has gallop'd over the poor girl ! I don't think he has much of the brogue — but, sir, I say, my— - Edw. Then, her foot, sir ; do but look at her foot, sir— a foot proportioned to the body— the body suited Act I] IN LONDON. 19 to the face, the face suited to the soul, the soul to the heart, the heart to the mind, the mind to — as my friend Hamlet says, in his device to the actors, " the action to the word ;" and then she has so much oh dear, oh dear, I cap go no farther — now to try to give her the letter, {aside) Frost. How his tongue dftes run ! I am afraid Liny will never have him, he's such a fool. But, sir, you confound her with your compliments. Edw. You wrong me, sir ; I cant flatter — I truly love, I adore, I live for you — I — I can't find the let- ter, {aside) Oh, madam, say that you'll marry me, or 1 shall curse my stars, go mad, and die ! Frost, Die and be damn'd, for you're the strangest fish I ever met. Sir, ril speak to my daughter, and if^ Edw. Oh ! that (/"has driven me to despair, for — (aside) 1 have lost the letter — n.y peace of mind is— dam'me but it's gone ! (aside) it has undone my quiet, ruined me, blasted all my hopes — farewell, board- wages, laced liveries, all joy, peace, and happiness ! oh! Frost. Sir, I'll withdraw a little to order some re- freshment, and— Car. Dear sir, don't leave me with this wretch, this fool I Frost. Don't abuse him. Liny : 'tis your charms have made him a little flighty— I wish they had cut his wings before they had let him away, for he's the wildest Irishman 1 ever saw. lexit Car. Sir, I say Edw. Stop, madam, forJieaven's sake I I am Ed- ward ; my master, captain%eymour, is in town. Car. Ha! can it be! my Seymour in England! Edw. Yes, ma'am, and has sent you — a letter.-r {searching for it) enter frost. Frost, I don't like leaving my child with this wild ^0 IRISHMAN [M'Cready Irishman. Eh, egad, they seem very quiet — I'll listen. Hdw, Dear, dear, I have certainly left it in my other clothes. But the circumstance is this, ma'am— my master, this morning, saw your father, and on finding you were in town, wrote a letter, which I un- dertook to deliver to you. \Mr, Frost comes between iheniy flushes Caroline off; Edward continues telling of the letter) But 1 have unfortunately mislaid it. I can assure you he loves you as much as ever ; and if you would but write a few lines, to say you love him, he'll run away with you, in spite of that cruel cur- mudgeon your father, and — {turning about meets Mr, Frost J face to face) Oh, murder! Frost. Thieves ! Cymon ! thieves ! knock him down. Edw. Yes, sir. {knocks Cymon down as he enters^ and exit) F^ost. Oh, murder ! thieves ! Cymon ! where are you ^ Cymon. Here sir ; as flat as a flounder. Frost. My poor fellow ! go shut the door, and be sure to bolt, lock, and chain it. But see that impostor out of my house. Cy?non. Yes, sir — I'll see every thing as safe as a guinea in a miser's purse. Frost. Oh, curse your similes ! I must go myself and see every thing secure. ^exeunC Acy IL SCENE I. enter louisa and Caroline. Car. Thank heaven ! I know my Seymour is in England — I have heard enough to convince me he still loves me ; and constancy'^ the only proof of true Act II] IN LONDON. 21 affection — I hope he may devise some means to free me. Loui, If he did not, I am sure he should not have me. A soldier ! and in love ! and to be afraid of such a little old fellow as your father ! enter gym on in haste, Cymon, Ma'am, he's come; Mr. Colloony ; lord, I am as much out of breath as a trumpeter. Frost, {without) Walk in — walk in, sir. enters with coLLOONy. I am overjoyed to see you. Walk in, sir, walk in. Ladies— ladies, this is Mr. Colloony ; sir, my daugh- ter, and her friend miss Bellmont. Coll. Ladies, your most obedient, {salutes them) This warm and kind reception is truly flattering, and impresses me strongly with the idea of my future happiness. Frost, Oh, I'm sure you'll be very happy. There's a husband for you, Linny ! is he to be compared to your captain ? Car, No, indeed, sir, I don't think he is. Frost, That's a good girl. Well, sir — you shall be married this morning. Oh dear — and how is my old friend, your worthy father, and all your family ? what sort of a passage had you I I suppose you were very much fatigued after your journey .^ will you have some refreshment? oh, I'm so happy, come, tell me all. Coll. All! Upon my honor, he asks all, and will hear nothing — sir, I left my father and all the family very well, as his letters will acquaint you. I say Dill, bring up that parcel. Dill. enter murtoch, with a portmanteau, Murt, Here, sir, here ; arrah, maister Pat, don't be calling me Dill, myself can't bear it, it's making so little of one. My name, ladies, saving your presence} is Murtoch Delany ; and though maister Pat's my 22 IRISHlMAN [\rCready master, I don't know who the devil made him my god -mother. Coll. Get away, sirrah ! sir, you will find by these peepers the liberality of my father. He gives me his whole estate while he lives, and makes me heir to all the rfest when he dies. Murt. Oh, the devil burn the blade of grass, horse, cow, servant, or any other fixture upon the estate, even to the value of a sucking pig, but will be all his own. Frost, Oh, I'm too happy ; you shall be united di* rectly. ColL I should, think myself unworthy* indeed, if words could express how much I feel indebffed to your goodness, before 1 had the felicity of seeing the lady ; I could think of nothing else ; and such an effect had the description of her on my mind, I decleer 1 could not sleep a wink for dreeming of her. Frost, Here, here's all the settlement ; lam so over- joyed I scarcely know what to say or do ; but you did not tell me what sort of a passage you had. Coll, Why, sir, they said it was a good one, but I was sick of— . Murt. Sick ! arrah, ladies, we were kilt, myself was quite dead, I was all — a — I called to the captain to stop ; stop and put me out, says I ; nonsince, man, says he ; if I put you out, it will be in the water, and then you'll go to Davy Jones. Oh thank'e, Loursee, says I, it's time enough for me to go and live with that jontleman when I am dead in earnest. Loui, Then you are not fond of the sea, Mr. Col- loony. ColL No, indeed, ma'am ; if they'd give me the finest estate upon earth, I could not live in it with any enjoyment on board a ship. Frost, But come, are not the towns through which you came worthy of observation ? ColL Certainly, sir ; your manufactories are so as* Act II] IN LONDON. 23 tonishingly greet, they prove at once the wonderful industry and wealth of your nation. Murt. Ax your pardon, ladies ; I'll tell you : I could see three times as much as maister Pat, for 1 slept all the way on the outside of the coach, and the devil a manufactory I saw equal to our own. Och ! if you could only look at the oyster beds in Poolbeg, the Foundling or the Lying-in Hospital at Dublin, they are the right sort of manufactories. ML Ha, ha, ha ! Murt, Faith, you may laugh, but I am sure there can't be better maniifactrys in the world, than those that provides comfortable lodgings, and every sort of bread and meat, for poor creatures that can't provide for themselves. ColL Hold ycur preeting, sirrah ; leedies, I hope you'll excuse him. Frost* They are getting into conversation ; I'll try to keep them engaged, {aside) But, Mr, CoUoony, do now favour us with your opinion of our country, and an account of your journey. Coll, 'Twas a very pleasant journey ; travelling here, sir, is much better than in Ireland. Murt. {aside) Oh, murther, murther ! Coll. The roads are so very excellent, the inns so large, and the mile stones so regular Murt, Och! maister Pat, don't be running down our country ; myself can't bear it ; you know the roads are a thousand times better in Ireland ; ladies, ladies, the miles are three times as long as they are here; and then the devil a half mile can you go, but there's a beautiful wooden mile stone ; I'm sure from the time we left the hill of Houth, till we got to that spalpeen place they call Holy-head, the devil a bit of land I saw, but what was all covered over with water ; pret- ty travelling indeed! ColL Begone, you scoundrel ; leave the room, I say, Murt. Sir? 24 IRISHMAN [M'Cready Coll. Leave the room, I say, sir. Murt. Leave the room, you say, sir? oh, mighty well ; there's more o' the yarn ! bad travelling I I'll say nothing before the company, but if ever I forgive this~Ladies, your most engaging conversation — {goes off muttering) If I ever forgive this — Frost, Your father, in this letter, seems particular- ly anxious that the marriage ceremony should be per- formed as soon as possible ; now Pm desirous it should be so too ; what do you say, sir ? ColL What do I say, sir I why I say, ask the lady : I deem it the happiest moment of my life ! he must be covetous indeed, that could form a wish beyond what is here to be found, {bowing to Louisa^ Frost. Liny, thank him. Isn't he an elegant, po- lite, well-bred man ? a'n't you surprized and rejoic- ed — the license is ready— I'll go to the parson; it must be done before twelve ; we have but an hour and a half. ColL I am forced to tear myself away, but rely on my punctuality, twelve. In that particular we have the advantage in Ireland — the moment Cupid's arrow pierces. Hymen's torch is in a blaze, and the rever- end gentleman at any hour leads consenting hearts to the temple of bliss — the ceremony over, Cei es pre- sides, Momus attends, and Bacchus crowns the feast; while the reigning toast is, '' may the nuptial bower be ever adorned with roses, and the present couple be as happy as the greetest and best pair in Europe." [exeunt with Frost Lout, Caroline, how could you treat Mr. Colloony in such a manner ; you scarce looked at him. Are not you on the very brink of matrimony ^ to disap- point him now what would the world say I Car. Yet disappointed he shall be^ and I am in no dread of what people may say. The truly virtuous mind makes itself judge, and, satisfied within, smiles, at that commcn enemv, the world, Act II] IN LONDON. 25 enter frost. Frost, Come, girls, prepare ; Louisa, you shall go loo — you shall be bride's-maid. Hadn't you rather be a bride ? Loui, Why, sir, I can't say I should have any ob- jection. Frost, Oh, charming! you make me young again — egad, I begin to think — oh dear — go and prepare, for Mr. CoUoony will return directly. [exit Louisa Oh the lovely sweet— enter edward, singing. Frost, Well, sir, what do you want ? Ediv. Sir, I — a — beg pardon, sir, I believe I am come to the wrong house. Frost. Then pray, sir, go to the right house. Fdw. Yes, sir. [exit singing Frost, Do, sir. Cymon, who is that fellow ? he had but an ill look, methought— shut the door there — now. Liny, my love, be a good girl ; I'm so pleased, that I shall give you an additional hundred pounds, for you to— - enter edward. He here again ! I thought you were gone to the right house ? Fdw, This is it, sir. Pray, did not a gentleman of the name of Colloony — I got that from the Irish ser- vant (aside)'-'go out of this house a little time ago ? FYost. Yes, sir ; but if you want him, he'll be back directly. Fdw, No, sir, he will not — a sad accident has hap- pened to him. Frost, Mercy on me, I hope not. Fdw, Truth, indeed, sir — I'll tell you the particu- lars. At the corner of the next street a gentleman attacked him — sir, says he, you are a villain, then drew his sword, and pushed violently at him— thus, C 26 IRISHMAN [M'Cready sir, thus, madam-^thus. {flushes the letter over Frost^s shoulder^ ivhich she does not notice) Oh, ihe blind creature ! Frost, Dear me, how unlucky ! I wish he was re- turned — I hope he is not hurt. £dw. He is, sir, yes he is — it's rather an odd place. Frost. Where, where ? is it in a mortal part ? Fdw. It's in the back, sir — in the back, mn'am, in the b Fdw, Why, sir, we hope not. He probed the wound, Acl II] IN LONDON. 27 and after muttering a great many gallipot phrases, that none but the brethren of the pill-box understand, he pronounced him out of danger, and ordered him to be put to bed, his stomach to be fomented with a — a— bason of soup — and Car. If this does but succeed, {aside) Sir, sir, this fellow's an impostor. I'll let my honoured father know your villany. Sir, while you were libtening to his story, he forced this letter into my hand ; but to show how I regard the writer, there take his impertinent scrawl back again, {throws it on the ground) Edw. The art of man won't prevent her being an old maid. Ma'am— Frost, Oh, jLou damn'd dog! let me see it, my dear — we'll throw it into the fire, and this fellow out of the window. Car, No, sir, I cannot wish him a greater punish- ment, than to return his letter just in that manner. Edw, Here's usage for my poor master ! but, ma'am, is there nothing for— or by way of — a Frost, Oh, you want something, do you ? I'll pay you ; there's wood upon wood — come along. Liny, and if ever I catch you in this house again, Til leave you no more brains than a fiddler. [exeunt enter murtoch, singing. Och, whiskey, it's you that's my darling. It's you that keeps me on my feet ; And often you cause me to stagger, "Whenever we chance for to meet. Maister Pat, I'm come to desire that you will — a — oh, he's gone ! it's well for him — I was just going to discharge him — he vexes me so when he speaks con- grumshously about the sod — I won't, for 1 can't bear it — I have made Cymon blind drunk in love with Ire- land—I was telling him all about it, and he supp'd up my intelligence like a gentleman ; to be sure he mixt it a little, for he emptied the best part of two bottles 28 IRISHMAN [M'Cready of port, that miss gave to make much of me, and there he lies stretched on the floor, snoring as quiet as a stone in a wall. I'm quite up — Pm almost corn'd, faith, with lucking at him drinking it. To be sure Pm not the naaty — I wish I had something to do — that somebody would affront me, or a fine young lady fall in love with me— or any divarting accident of that nater. enter cubba. Cub, You want speaka wi me ? Murt. Och, hone, what's this? sure the crater wou'd'nt be in love with me — she is, she is! and I am sorry for her — but she can't help it — honey, it won't do — now don't think of it — a vurneen. Cub. Me no understand you. Murt, She does not understand me — what a mis- fortune it is to want larning — if your school-mistress had been a gentleman, she'd teach you the manners to say you did, whether or not. I'll larn you to speak good English when my master marries your young lady. Cub. Me hope me not live till den — me sure mis- see break her heart, and me rader die than see it. Murt, Oh faith, if you die, you won't see it, to be sure — may be you'll hear of it, and that will be the same thing — miss A — troth I forgot your name. Cub, Me name Cubba, *'me only so many year old {holding up her Jingers) when cross Bochro man catch me — me going walk one day, did take me from all my friend — me shall never see dem again— but missee so good since she buy me, me no wish to go back, though" my fader great king. Murt, Pooh, pooh, be asy, miss Cubba! that's being too agreeable—your father a king f Cub. Iss. Murt. Oh ! it's king of the Mummors she manes ; ay, ay, that fellow had a black face — I saw him yes- terday. Act II] IN LONDON. 29 Cub. No, no ; him live at de Gold Coast. Murt, Where ? Cub. At de Gold Coast— now nobody here, you shut your eye, me tell you something dat make my heart open in two. But you look no good — you not be angry with Cubba. Murt. Oh ! the devil an angry I'll be, honey — I never was angry with one of the fair sex in my life — ihere, honey, my eyes are shut— go on — the devil a word I can hear. Cub. Me love a you dearly — but me no want you love me — dat be very wrong — your face while, me poor negro — me only tell you make me easy, den me pray for you be happy. Murt. I knew ir — 1 knew it — black, brown, green or yellow, I bother them all, oh ! Murtoch — you mur- therer of beauty, be quiet — what are you about — but the milk of compassion rises within me for poor Cub- bah—l wibh she was not sooty— who knows — maybe the journey will bleach her — troth it's a shame your Oiistress never found out that fellow, that advertises to whiten ladies* hands and faces, the limping Jew, he'd make you fair as adaisy. Och ! if you had even a bit of the violent soap, honey. Cub. No matter my colour, if me do right— good black face be happier den bad white. Murt. Troth and I believe she may be the daugh- ter of a king, for she has the mind of a prince — if her face was but as white as her heart, she'd be a wife for a pope. Cub. You tell a Symon fine story about your coun- try, me like to hear. Murt. Och honey ! she likes ray story, she — sweet crater, she's choking with sense ; then you shall have it — you know I left off at the exchange — the next is the parliament house, but I suppose you heard of the chimneys setting the walls afire and burning every stick of them-^the live pillars all run away, but the dead ones all stood there, as if they were determined c 2 30 IRISHMAN [M'Cready to support it as long as they liv'd — I must go to my master immediately — but I'll tell you all in a bit of a planxty. so^G—Murtoch. If youM travel the wide world all over, And sail across quite round the globe. You must set out on horseback from Dover, And sail unto sweet Ballinrobe. 'Tis there you'll see Ireland so famous. That was built before Adam was breech'd, Who liv'd in the reign of king Shamus, Ere he was at the Boyne over-reach'd. CHORUS. With my whack fal de ral» &c. &c. O the land of Shillelah for me. There you'll see Ulster^ and Munster, and Leinster, Connaught, and sweet Kilkenny likewise, That city where first, as a spinster, I open'd these pair of black eyes. In this town there's fire without smoking. For a penny you'd buy fifty eggs. And then there's such wit without joking, And rabbits without any legs. With my whack, &c. There you'll see my ancestors glorious. The sons of the brave O's and Macs, Who died whene'er they were victorious, And after that ne'er turn'd their backs. Our heads are stout and full of valour. Our hearts are wise and full of brains. In love we ne'er blush nor change colour. And the ladies reward all our pains. With my whack, &c. Saint Patrick is still our protector, He made us an island of saints, Act II] IN LONDON. 31 Drove out snakes and toads like an Hector, And ne'er shut his eyes to complaints. Then if you'd live and be frisky. And never die when you're in bed. Come to Ireland and tipple the whiskey. And drink ten years after you're dead. With my whack fal de ral, &c. &c. The land of Shillelah for me. SCENE— a street, enter seymour arid edward. Edw. Oh, sir, your mistress is like the rest of them -^weil, he that thinks to hold a woman, will find he has got an eel by the tail — there's your letter again — that's all the answer that I could get. Seyin My letter! 'i>death, you r?scal, is this your boasted cleverness ? did you see (iiy Caroline I Hdw, Yes, sir; and, after many eff>)rts, at last I gave the letter into her own hand, and her lather in the room. But she returned it just as you see, and is positively to be mat ried this morning. Seym, Unlucky scoundrel ! 'tis to you I owe all my misfortunes ; by listening to your wretched paltry schemes, I have lost all that was dear to me on earth ; bu.t you shall injure me no more — all the punishment 1 can at present infiict, is, to divest you of my pro- perty and discard you; so strip, sir, and never let me see your face again. Edw. Sir ? Seym. Call a coach, sir, throw the clothes into it, and be gone — strip, 1 sny. EA^M, What, sir, in the street I I shall catch cold, sir. Seym, Do as I desire you, rascal, or Edw. Yes, sir, yes — coach — co — lord, sir, you are joking. Seym, I am ser.iouSj sirrah^du as I order you j no words—but—— S2 IRISHMAN [M'Cready J^cfw. Yes, sir, yes — here's gratitude ! who would be a footman now, 1 wonder. There, sir, there's your coat, all the rest is my own. Seym, Quit my sight— and here, sir, take this letter as your reward. Edtv. Oh ! sir, virtue is its own reward — I look for none. Eh ! what's this ? ha ! kind fortune you never deserted me. Seytn What is the fellow loitering about — I wish he'd ask for his coat again, {asid^) Edw, Sir, I have one favour to beg before I go; will you be so kind, as just to look at tne outside of that letter ? Seym, Look at — {taking the letter) ha ! whai's here ? {reads) "This is the only method I have to ac- quaint my dear Seymour, that I am still the same ; my heart is wholly his." Transport! {kisses the let^ ter) My charming ! £dw, A hem, a hem ! Seym. My dear Edward, what shall I say to you ? Edw. Nothing, sir ; you've said enough — 'tis to me you owe all your misfortunes. Seym. Nay, nay, put on your coat. Edw No, no, sir ; get another servant ; Til never — Seym, Nay, for heaven's sake, Edward — I own I have been rash. Edw, Rash ! to make me strip here in the open street, and expose me to all the world — {walking about) Seym, {following him) But, Edward, do put on your coat. Edw I despise a coat— when there's no money in the pockets. Seym, {gives him money) Now, my dear fellow, have done. Edw, Lord, sir, I have done — money and a good place have stopt greater men's mouths than mine, Seym. Take your coat and put it on. Act II] IN LONDON. 33 Edw, Yes, sir— a little of your assistance, if you please. Seym, My assistance ! Edw, Yes, sir ; dam'me, if I put it on without it. {Seymour helfis him on with his coat) There — I have often assisted you on a sinnilar occasion. Seym, Well, come, only think of my anxiety ! Edw, Who v¥Ould not t)e a footman now ? it's well you're a gentleman, sir. Seym, Why ? Edw, You make a very good master ; but you'd be a damn'd bad servant. enter cubba. Cub, Massa bring a my dear good missee now, to make her marry great man — she send me a to nook for you — hee a she come. O dear missee ! Seym. Why, there's no man but her father. Cub, No ; chum-chum, meet her at de church. Seym, Never — let the consequence— Edw. Here they come, sir — let's retire a little. Come, Cubba, and mind what I say. {they retire) enter FResT and ladies, {one on each side) Frost, Dear me, the time is getting rapidly over, and I dread that fellow's having any more schemes to bamboozle and cheat me— but I think if he does now, he must be cunning. Come on, Liny. Car, Why, sir, how very ridiculous you'll make me and yourself in this business — you see plainly, Mr. Colloony won't be here. Pray, sir, put it off till to- niorrow. Frost, No, no ; I am certain he will be here — egad, yonder he comes. Louisa, your turn shall be next — to-morrow we'll — oh dear ! ■ ^> c. 34 IRISHMAN [M'Cready enter colloony and murtoch. Coll. I hope, sir, I haven't kipt you weeting ; ma- dam, I take^^'-^f addressing himself to Louisa) JEdward takes Cubba*s hand, sli/is Caroline's gently away^ and puts Cubba^s in its filace under Frost's arm) Frost. Mr. Colloony, don't be ashi^med to be seen with your wife before marriage — here she— oh, the devil. Murt, Arrah ! is it my own little daffy-down-dilly you want, maister Pat, to bring home ! O thunder ! arrah be asy. Frost. Oh, thunder, indeed, what hocus pocus is this. Coll. Sir, I take your daughter as the greetest gift this world can be— Frost. Take her ! where will you find her? Coll. Here, sir — this lady. Frost. That lady ! no, no, no ; she is no daughter of mine — she is engaged— she is — oh Liny ! why don't you pursue and bring back your wife that is to be ; this poor girl has no fortune. Coll. Why, then, it's very lucky I have enough for us both — and if this lady will make it more by shar- ing it with me, it's all at her service. Loui. Why, sir, a — there is a certain graceful as- surance about some men, that women are strangely bewitched with — I own that is my case ; and would say, " here's my hand ;" but I fear you'll censure me. Frost. Oh! dear, oh! was there ever such a wretch- ed little old man ! enter seymour, Caroline, and edward. Car. Dear sir, I can't bear to see you so miserable —be reconciled ; and our future conduct shall prove, that to make you happy, is all we wish. Act II] IN LONDON. 35 Frost. Ah, confound you all ! Til never — yet stop ; since Providence has so far interfered — 'twould be presumptuous any longer to oppose your happiness-^ she is ynur's, sir, with a good fortune, and the blessing of an affectionate father. Loul Ay^ now you look like the good-natured lit- tle man I always considered you. Let us be friends. Frost, With all my soul — I must love you — give me your hand — at my time of life, 1 think it's moch better to be a good friend, than an indifferent husband. Murt. Faith, you're right, old gentleman— but all our great joy and happiness will be nothing but down- right grief and misery, if the hands of all our friends do not loudly whisper in our ears, they have no objec- tion to the *• IRISHMAN IN LONDON.*' THE END. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS m-^ 002 052 450 9