A Will and No Will or A Bone for the Lawyers Part 19

_Har._ I wonder at that, Sir, for all Gentlemen of Taste visit Ireland in their Travels. It's famous for not having venemous Creatures in it, I think.

_Sir Pat._ Not one, Madam, from the beginning of the World to the Creation. For I remember there was a Toad brought over there once, and as soon as ever he died. Madam, upon my Honour, they could not bring it to Life again.

_Har._ No! That was very surprizing, ha, ha.

_Sir Pat._ Upon my Word and Honour, Madam, 'tis as true as the Alcorn, for I stood there with these two Eyes and saw it.

_Har._ Then I find you have been in Ireland, Sir?

_Sir Pat._ In Ireland, Madam. (_Aside_--What the Devil have I said.

Now I am afraid I have committed a Blunder here.) Yes, Madam, now I remember I was there once about two or three Months ago--I went over with a Lady for my Diversion--She went there to travel so I went to shew her the Country because we were both Strangers in it. But really, Madam, it was so long ago that I quite forgot it, and as I told you before, Madam, I have a very treacherous Heart at remembering Things when once I forgot them.

_Har._ You are to be excused, Sir, for to be sure a Gentleman that has travelled so much as you have done must have a very treacherous Heart at remembering things. For it is common Observation that Travellers always have bad Memories.

_Sir Pat._ O the worst in the World, Madam, for they go into so many Inns and Taverns upon the Road, and into so many Towns and Villages and Steeples and Churches, that it is impossible to Memorandum all the Kingdoms a Man travels through.

_Heart._ Ha, ha, ha. Pray Sir, in your Travels in Ireland, if your heart will let you recollect it, what sort of usage did you meet with?

_Sir Pat._ O the best behaved usage that ever I met with in all the born days of my Life, Sir--I'll tell you what, Madam, now if you were a strange Gentleman and travelling there and happened to come within a Mile of a Gentleman's House when you were benighted so that you could not find your way to it, upon my Honour you might lie there all Night and not cost you a halfpenny, tho' you had never a farthing of Money in your Pocket.

_Both._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Heart._ That is very hospitable, I must confess, to let one lie within a Mile of their House.

_Sir Pat._ Lord, Madam, there are not so hospitable and good natured People in the World.

_Heart._ I think, Sir, the Irish are reckoned very great Scholars.

_Sir Pat._ O dear, Madam, yes indeed, very great Scholars. They play Back Gammon the best of any Men in the World, _better than all the Bishops in England_.

_Har._ Then you have several good Poets in Ireland.

_Sir Pat._ Yes to be sure, Sir, there is hardly a Gentleman there but knows every one of the Ninety Nine Muses, and can speak all the Mechanical Sciences by Heart, and most of the liberal Languages except Irish and Welch.

_Har._ And how happens it that they don't speak their own Language?

_Sir Pat._ Because, Madam, they are ashamed of it; it has such a rumbling Sound with it. Now when I was upon my Travels I liked the Language so well that I learned it. Madam, if it won't be over and above enc.u.mbersome to your sweet Ladys.h.i.+p, I will sing you an Irish Song I learnt there--it was made upon a beautiful young Creature that I was in Love wi[th] there, one Mrs. Gilgifferaghing.

_Har._ Not at all enc.u.mbersome; I dare swear it will be very entertaining.

_Sir Pat._ Hem, hem, hem. (_Sings an Irish Song_)

_Har._ I protest, Sir, you have a great deal of very diverting Humour; and upon my Word you sing extremely well. For my part, I think Irish singing is as diverting as Italian.

_Sir Pat._ O Madam, that is more my Deserts than your Goodness to say so.

_Both._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Har._ I am surprized the Directors of the Opera do not send over to Ireland for a Set of Irish Singers.

_Sir Pat._ O no, Madam, it would never do; the Irishmen would never make good Singers.

_Har._ Why so, Sir?

_Sir Pat._ Lord, Madam, as soon as ever they would come to England, the English Ladies would be so very fond of them that it would spoil their Voices--besides, Madam, they are not so well qualified for it as the Italians.

_Har._ We are generally speaking very fond of the Irish Gentlemen to be sure, but there is no avoiding it,--they have so much Wit and a.s.surance and are such agreeable handsome Fellows.

_Sir Pat._ O Lord, Madam, we Gentlemen of Ireland look upon ourselves to be the handsomest men in England.

_Heart._ Then you are an Irish Man, Sir?

_Sir Pat._ An Irish Man,--poh, what the Devil shall I say now?

(_Aside_) No my Life, I am no Irishman at all, not I upon my Honour--but my Mother was one--and so I call that my Country sometimes out of a Joke--that's all--I an Irishman--no, no--no, I'faith you may know by my Tongue that I am no Irishman.

_Har._ O then it is your Mother that was an Irishman?

_Sir Pat._ Yes, Madam, she was born and bred in Ireland all the Days of her Life, but she was educated in England.

_Heart._ Ha, ha, ha, this is more than one in Reason could have expected. This Fellow is more diverting and more blundering than his Countryman in the Committee. [_Aside_]

_Har._ See, here come Mr. Nibble and Mr. Trifle in warm debate; prithee let us leave them to themselves and go see how my Lady and Canker have agreed in their Judgments about this New Play.

_Sir Pat._ With all my Heart, Madam; for really I am tired with these two Gentlemen before they come near us, they are so very silly--(_Pus.h.i.+ng between Harriet and Heartly_) I beg Pardon, Mr.

Heartly, but I must do the Lady the Honour to give her the Acceptation of my Hand. I hope you will excuse my bashfullness, Madam, that I did not do it sooner.

_Har._ Sir Patrick, you are the most courteous well bred Knight that ever broke Spear in a Lady's Defence.

_Sir Pat._ Faith I am of your Opinion in that, Madam, for I think I am a clever loose Fellow. (_Exeunt_)

(_Enter_ NIBBLE _and_ TRIFLE)

_Trif._ Dear Nibble, don't let you and I quarrel which we certainly must if you persist in crying down so admired a Piece. For Dullness seize me if I don't defend it to the last Extremity of critical Obstinancy.

_Nib._ Dear Tim: don't call it critical, but fas.h.i.+onable Obstinancy, for you know very well that Judgment and you are old Antagonists.

_Trif._ Ha, ha, ha, give me your Hand for that, Nibble; faith that was not said amiss--But as I have some regard for you, don't persist in shewing your weakness lest you oblige me to draw my parts upon you, and if I do, expect no Quarter; by all that's witty, I'll pink the Midriff of your Ignorance as a friendly cure to your sickly Understanding.

_Nib._ Tim Trifle, I defy your Parts; they are as blunt and as dull as a Welch Pedant's. I do and shall persist in, a.s.serting to the last Extremity of my critical Judgment that the Piece has glaring Faults--monstrous.

_Trif._ What Faults? What Faults? Prithee name one!

_Nib._ Why in the first place I insist upon it, and I will prove it up to mathematical Demonstration, that the t.i.tle of it is quite expotic.

_Trif._ Expotic?

_Nib._ Ay, immensely expotic! so expotic that the Play ought to have been hissed for it. The Suspicious Husband! Is not that an egregious Error? I am sure every Person who has the least Taste of the Drama must allow it to be an unpardonable Fault--quite a Misnomer--absolutely expotic.

_Trif._ Now by Aristotle's Beard, I think there could not have been so happy a t.i.tle found out of the Alphabet.