!/ THE MINOR DRAMA. 
 No. XX. 
 
 THE WHITE HORSE OF 
 
 i THE PEPPJRS. 
 
 omk 
 
 IN TWO ACTS. 
 
 BY SAMUEL LOVER. 
 
 THE STAGE BUSINESS, CASTS OF CHARACTERS, 
 COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. 
 
 CD 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 & CO., 18 Ann-Street, 
 
 BALTIMOBE, MD. 
 flUNRY TAYLOE, Sun Iron BuUdings. 
 
 PRICE 12 1-2 CENTS. 
 

D R 
 
 THE WHITE HORSE 
 
 OF THE PEPPERS. 
 
 A COMIC DRAMA 
 
 IN TWO ACTS. 
 
 m 
 
 BY SAMUEL LOVER. 
 
 i 
 
 WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS, 
 RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. 
 
 NEW-YORK; 
 WM. TAYLOE & CO., 18 Ann-Street. 
 
 BALTIMORE, MB./. 
 WM. & HENRY TAYLOR, Stra Iron Buildings. 
 
EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 " THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS" possesses in tfh 
 eminent degree all the characteristics which distinguish the 
 productions of its author a gentleman as much admired for his 
 powers as a musician and artist, as a scholar and poet. 
 
 This drama is replete with such incidents and situations as 
 are required in stage representations, while the dialogue abounds 
 with just sentiments, genuine wit, pure humour, and natural 
 pathos. 
 
 The time at which the scene is laid, was a stirring one for the 
 adherents of King James, and many a noble supporter of the 
 pusillanimous monarch not only shed his heart's blood in his 
 cause, on " the banks of the bloody Boyne," but left, as the re- 
 ward of his fidelity, a condemned name and ruined fortune to 
 his plundered successors. 
 
 The bold, loyal, and really Irish, Gerald Pepper, is a faith- 
 ful portrait of the hard-fighting, high-minded, and dare-devil 
 gentleman of the time and nation. His outbreaks of feeling, 
 love of his country, and easily-excited sympathies, offer an ex- 
 cellent contrast to the cold, phlegmatic, cautious, calculating, 
 foreign mercenary, Major Hans Mansfeldt. The stratagem by 
 which he recovers his confiscated lands, is well conceived and 
 most humorously carried out. In short, from the opening scene 
 to the fall of the curtain, the interest in " The White Horse of 
 the Peppers" never flags. 
 
 The original " Gerald" the lamented POWER possessed a 
 reputation that would have ensured success to any drama he 
 appeared in ; but he had in this instance the aid of an artiste in 
 his way, of equal talent we allude to Mr. Webster, whose 
 Major Hans Mansfeldt was as perfect a portraiture, as was 
 Power's of the more prominent Gerald, while " little Mrs. 
 Fitz." was all that could be wished in the kind-hearted, ready, 
 faithful, and fascinating Agatha. We have had the pleasure of 
 witnessing the performances of Mr. Brougham and Mr. Shaw, 
 in this and the old country, of Gerald Pepper. Both have their 
 excellences, and are, in our opinion, the best living representa- 
 tives of the owner of " The White Horse of the Peppers." 
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Haymarket, 1837. Park, 1838. 
 
 Colonel Chesham Mr. Perkins. Mr. Garni. 
 
 Major Hans Mansfeldt " Webster. ' Placide. 
 
 Darby DonagJiue " Strickland. " Chippendale. 
 
 Phelim " King. " Jones. 
 
 Monk u Gough. " Bedford. 
 
 Portreeve ' Matthews. " Povey. 
 
 Gerald Pepper " Power. ' Power. 
 
 Rafferty ' Bishop. " King. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Two Supreme Burgesses 
 
 Two Servants 
 
 Magdalene Miss Cooper, Miss Cushman. 
 
 Agatha Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Richardson. 
 
 Time of representation, 1 hour and 35 minutes. 
 Scene lies in Ireland, in the year 1690. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 COLONEL CHESHAM. Light blue broad-skirted coat, trimmed with gold lace- 
 yellow cloth breeches, buff sword belt, trimmed with gold lace, black slouch hat, 
 
 bound with gold, one wliite feather, high black boots. 
 MAJOR HANS MANSFELDT. Same as Chesham, with steel cuirass, brass spurs, 
 
 straight flaxen wig, yellow gauntlets. 
 DARBY DONAGHUE. First dress : white serge peasant's jacket, green damask 
 
 waistcoat, blue apron, brown cloth breeches. Second dress : Brown Dutchman's 
 
 dress, high dirty boots. 
 
 PHELIM. Brown tabbed jacket, blue cloth breeches, high russet boots, drab hat. 
 MONK. Friar's grey dress. 
 PORTREEVE. Old fashioned brown coat, ditto waistcoat,, black breche.<s black 
 
 worsted stockings, yellow clo;ik. 
 GERALD PEPPER. First dress: Scarlet broad-skirted coat, trimmed with silver 
 
 lace an<J tassels, buff serge trunks, green silk sash, with silver fringe, buff sword 
 
 belt, trimmed with green ribbon, black slouch hat and feather, bound with silver. 
 
 Second dress : The same as Rafferty. 
 RAFFERTY. Old scarlet waistcoat, patched, oid woollen jacket, without sleeves, 
 
 green cloth breeches, torn old hat. 
 CHORUS. The same as Rafferty. 
 TWO SUPREME BURGESSES. Old-fashioned suits, high boots, three-cornered 
 
 huts. 
 
 TWO SERVANTS. Old-fashioned liveries. 
 MAGDALENE. Dove coloured satin gown, trimmed with white satin, open in 
 
 front, white satin petticoat. 
 AGATHA. First dress: Orange merino, trimmed with blue. Second dress : Chintz 
 
 bedgown, brown patched petticoat, handkerchief over the head. 
 
 EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 
 
 R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 
 S. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle. Door. 
 
 RELATIVE POSITIONS/ 
 
 R., means Right; L., Left ; C., Centre ; R. C., Right of Centre: 
 L. C., Left of Centre. 
 
THE WHITE HORSE OF 
 THE PEPPERS. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. An Inferior of Bally garth House. 
 
 MAGDALENE discovered, seated at a table lights upon it 
 employed at needlework handsome pictures J^ng round 
 the room, hi which an air of ancestral comfort prevails 
 an oriel window at the back, through which a moonlight 
 vieiv is seen. 
 
 Mag. Vainly I endeavour to wear away the time while 
 Gerald is absent ; he never leaves the house that I dread 
 not some fatality may occur either to his home or himself. 
 Oh, what dreadful times are these, when you know not 
 how long a home may be left you. 
 
 Enter AGATHA, u. 
 
 Aga. The children sleep so soundly, my lady, and Mas- 
 ter Gerald is laughing in his dream so ; 'tis beautiful to 
 look at him bless him ! 
 
 , J\lag. Yes, the boy sleeps and smiles, while his mother 
 wakes and weeps. 
 
 Aga. Oh, my lady dear, don't take on so ; indeed, in- 
 deed, my lady, you fret too much. 
 
 Mag. Oh, Aggy, when I think of those dear children, 
 and know not how soon they may be beggars and out- 
 casts. 
 
 Aga. Don't be talking so sadly, my lady, pray don't ; I 
 
6 THE WHITE HORSE { ACT I. 
 
 want to finish the dear boy's mantle, and I came to ask you 
 for more silk for the lining. 
 
 Mag. You'll find it in the basket, make it warm for 
 him, Agatha, there's no knowing how soon he may want 
 it pefliotps at dead i>f ?igh-t, we may be driven from our 
 home, and forced to seek 'shelter beneath some hedge. 
 \Grcab sl'W.tiv^ atyd ccasping' of swords outside.] Ha! 
 wheri-ce this shouting ? perchance they are coming now. 
 [Goes to window and looks out great ujwoar and strife out- 
 side^ Heavens ! 1 see Gerald on his white horse, surround- 
 ed by a crowd, and other horsemen, too. Their swords 
 flash A.h ! [Shouts outside she sinks into a chair. 
 
 Aga. [Looking out. \ The crowd is dispersing, my lady; 
 my master is quite safe. I see him plainly, he is riding 
 towards the house. | Magdalene reviving.] He is safe, my 
 lady he returns ! 
 
 Mag. Thank heaven ! Thank heaven ! 
 
 Gerald. [Outside. \ This way, gentlemen, this way ! 
 
 Enter GERALD, COLONEL CHESHAM, and HANS MANS- 
 FEisVTjUMagdalene rushes to Gerald's arms. Agatha 
 exits, R. 
 
 Mag. My Gerald ! Oh, T have been so terrified. 
 
 Ger. My poor Mag what a timid heart it has ! 
 
 Mag. What meant that shouting? 
 
 Ger. A mere nothing, my love ; here are two gentlemen, 
 who demand our courtesy. \She curtsies with constraint to 
 the Colonel and Hans.] I will leave you, gentlemen, for a 
 few minutes ; we want wine, and my serving varlets are 
 enquiring about the row, instead of minding their business. 
 
 [Exit, R. 
 
 Mag. [Aside.] These men armed to the teeth ; per- 
 haps the hour is come to drive us from our hearths. [ To 
 Colonel Chesham.] Oh, tell me truly, sir, what means all 
 this 1 
 
 Ches. In brief, madam, we are indebted to your hus- 
 band for our lives. Set upon by a large and armed mob, 
 he gallantly rode amongst them, and by the influence of 
 words, obtained our safety, which our swords must have 
 failed to do. It was the more generous as, I am aware, 
 we are political enemies. 
 
 Hans. De reppel rascals vas verra near to vinisli uz, in- 
 teet. 
 
SCENE I.] *' THE PEPPERS. 7 
 
 dies. [Aside to Hans.] Hush ! you forget where you 
 speak. [side.] What a brute he is ! 
 
 Enter AGATHA, R. 
 
 Aga. My lady, the dear boy wakes, and cries for you ; 
 I cannot pacify him. 
 
 Mag. Poor child, heaven help him ! Excuse me, gen- 
 tlemen. [Exeunt Magdalene and Agatha, R. s. E. 
 
 Ches. Poor lady, she is sore troubled. Did you mark 
 her alarm when we entered 1 she feared we were come 
 in the execution of a forfeiture. 
 
 Hans. And no vondher she was froightened, dis is ver 
 nice ouse to lose ; look at de peecture ver goot; de blate 
 ver goot ; mid every ting else goot besize. 
 
 [ Looks about in admiration. 
 
 Ches. [Aside.] Hang me, if that calculating rascal is 
 not reckoning in his own mind the profits of this generous 
 fellow's ruin. I say, Hans Mansfeldt 
 
 Hans. Veil, vat vant you mid me. 
 v Ches. What are you about? 
 
 Han's* I tinfc dis vill be ver noice ting ven Mynheer de 
 Commissioner begin de fish kitchen. 
 
 Ches. The confiscation, you mean ? 
 
 Hans. Ya! 
 
 Ches. Major Mansfeldt, it is true the confiscations will 
 be extensive, and perchance the generous fellow who has 
 saved our lives, may be a sufferer ; but is it fair thus to 
 anticipate his ruin ? I swear, if it chanced to be my for- 
 tune to have this man's property allotted to me, I would 
 sooner cut off my sword arm than take it from him, after 
 his conduct of this evening. Now, suppose it were youi 
 case to have it given to you, could you accept it ] 
 
 Hans. Vy, I dink I goot. 
 
 Ches. Then I don't envy you your feelings, Majoi 
 Mansfeldt. 
 
 Hans. Vy, now, zee suppose dis vas gif to- me, if I 
 vouldn't haf it, somepody else vould, vitch vould be as all 
 as bad for dis man here, and no petters vor me, and vy 
 shouldn't I getch vat I goot in de fish kitchen, as another. 
 Ches. I think, sir, you had better keep this to yourself, 
 while you are under this hospitable roof. 
 
 Hans. [Aside, looking round.] Splot ! but I vood like to 
 keep it all mineself. 
 
8 THE VVHITH HOUSf: [Acx I. 
 
 Enter GERALD, followed by a SERVANT, bearing a handsome 
 salver, silver claret-jug, and glasses.J^SL. 
 
 Ger. Now, gentlemen, some wine. Where is my wife ] 
 
 Enter MAGDALENE, R. s. E. 
 
 Mag. Here, dearest; our Gerald cried, and I went to 
 sooth him. I hope these gentlemen will pardon my ab- 
 sence ] 
 
 Ckes. Madam, name it not. 
 
 Hans. Oh, de shoild vil zometimes croi. 
 
 Ger. [ To Servants.} Fill ! 
 
 [The Servant pours out wine, and they drink with salu- 
 tations to each other, all but Hans, who swigs his 
 wine, and has his cup filled twice. 
 
 Hans. Dat glarets is goot ! 
 
 Ger. That claret, sir, has been in my cellar fifteen 
 years : it is a wine of which the second draught is better 
 than the first. 
 
 H&ns. I will droi dat. 
 
 [He has his cup filled agair*, ancfdrinks. 
 
 Ger. And now, gentlemen, as we are all safe and quiet 
 here, may I ask how you became involved in the riot I 
 found you 1 
 
 dies. We are engaged, sir, truth to say, in an ungracious 
 duty : it has devolved on me to make some surveys under 
 their honours, the commissioners of the court of forfei- 
 tures ; the peasantry having obtained a knowledge of our 
 purpose, were hanging on our flank all day, and the 
 branches of a pretty stream near a neighbouring town 
 hereabout 
 
 Ger. I know it Duleek. 
 
 Ckes. From our ignorance of the winding of the stream, 
 these branches misled us, and so we became separated from 
 our troopers, on perceiving which, the peasantry fell upon 
 us as you saw. 
 
 Hans. Ha ! the repp el rascals ! 
 
 Ger. Call them not rebels, nor rascals, sir, I pray you. 
 We differ in opinion, gentlemen, as to who should be king, 
 but it is hard that our successful adversaries should brand 
 with the name of rebellion, what is, in fact, but a too faith- 
 ful adherance to a worthless monarch. 
 
SCENE I.] OF Till-; PKPPERS. 
 
 Ches. I am glad to hear you call him worthless, sir. 
 
 Ger. I do so now, because he has deserted the most ge- 
 nerous people on the face of the earth, who perilled all 
 in his cause ; it is to well known to seek to make it a se- 
 cret from you, that 1 was one of his strongest adherents. 
 I fought for him, and so did many of those fellows who 
 attacked you just now ; but why did they do so ? the man 
 whose property you were on, is popular, sir ; these poor 
 fellows are attached to those who have lived and spent 
 their fortunes among them, and it is their ardent natures 
 that urge them to this stuong demonstration of opinion. 
 
 Hans. Sdrong demonsdration ] Ha ! dat is a ver noice 
 name for pikes and pall gaderisches t 
 
 Ger. I give you my honour, sir, some of those boys are 
 the best-hearted and most good-natured fellows in the 
 world. 
 
 Hans. Oh, ver good-natured Ha ! ha! 
 
 Ches. I can feel the truth and justice of* all you say, and 
 only regret your opinions have been so decided in the 
 cause ; for in the political heat of the moment, I will not 
 flatter you by saying your property is very safe. 
 
 Ger. I know it, sir ; but I would recommend whoever 
 gets it, or any other property, to take it gently, and soften 
 the hardship of the seizure with as much of charity as he 
 can. In short, to do it like a gentleman, for our people 
 are fond of the landlords who have used them well, and 
 will not be easily reconciled to plunder. 
 
 Hans. Plonther ! dat is a hard vort ! 
 
 Ger. It is not the less plunder, sir, because it has the 
 sanction of the law of the strongest. 
 
 Hans. Dat is anoder of your sdroiig opinions. 
 
 Ger. We had better say no more on the subject, sir. 
 In a couple of centuries, our posterity will judge more 
 calmly than we can. 
 
 Hans. [Aside.] I hope my bosderity vil have zomeding 
 bedder to old dan sdrong opinions. 
 
 Ches. However we may differ, sir, on such matters, 
 there can be but one opinion of your generous conduct 
 in our rescue. 
 
 Ger. You, sir, are a soldier and a gentleman, and would 
 have done the same by me. 
 
 Ches. 1 would, sir, and. will, if it should ever be in my 
 
10 THE WHITE HORSE [ACT I. 
 
 power to befriend you. I am Colonel Chesham, of the 
 King's Dragoons ; may I ask the name of our generous 
 protector ] 
 
 Ger. It might only give you pain to hear it associated 
 some day with ruin ; therefore, ask it not, I pray you. 
 
 Enter SERVANT, L., with a letter. 
 
 Ser. A messenger, sir, who has ridden hard, desired me 
 bear you this letter with all haste. 
 
 Ger. See that messenger well taken care of. [Exit Ser- 
 vant, R.j Excuse me, gentlemen, [Aside.\ 'Tis the seal of 
 my friend, Lawyer Dillon. A lawyer's letter I have a 
 special horror of, particularly in troublesome times. 
 
 [Reads and seems disturbed Magdalene approaches 
 him. 
 
 Mag. Gerald, you seem disturbed ] 
 
 Ger. No, dearest, no ; our guests will feel neglected, 
 Magdalene. [Magdalene leaves and approaches the Colonel 
 and Hans Gerald continues reading, and his emo- 
 tion increases. 
 
 Ches. Madam, I have to ask pardon for the sudden in- 
 terruption and uneasiness we have caused you. I hope 
 you forgive us ? 
 
 Mag. Sir, I should rather crave your pardon, if my wel- 
 come was chilled by an alarm, at which, in these times, 
 you cannot wonder. [Gerald finishes reading the letter. 
 
 Ches. And now, madam, in bidding you farewell 
 
 Ger. You are not going to-night, Colonel ; will not the 
 morning serve 1 
 
 Ches. I expect some important dispatches await me on 
 the road to Dublin, and thither we must journey at once, 
 sir ; if you will do us the additional favour to put us in 
 the way. 
 
 Ger. A faithful servant of mine shall conduct you, and 
 his presence will secure you from further molestation ; 
 but before you go, Colonel, another cup of wine the stir- 
 rup cup, as you call it, or, as we say in Ireland, the Deoch 
 an Dorris the drink at the door. 
 
 Ches. I'll fill to a toast, sir. [Fills his cup, and addresses 
 Magalene.] Lady, may your husband ever find in his ad- 
 versaries, the generous courtesy he has shown to us. 
 
 [Magdalene curtsies. 
 
OF THE PEPPERS. 11 
 
 Ger. Thanks, Colonel Good speed to you. 
 
 [Drinks Hans drinks without any demonstration of 
 politeness. 
 
 Ches. And now, boot and saddle, Major Mansfeldt. 
 
 Ger. [ With suppressed surprise^ Mansfeldt ! 
 
 Hans. You zeem zurprise at dat name. 
 
 Ger. Why ! 'tis rather an odd name, sir, that's all. 
 
 Hans. Hegh ! 
 
 Ger. Colonel, your hand. [They clasp hands.] In times 
 like these, it is well, when the hand of a soldier is the 
 hand of a gentleman. Farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Colonel Chesham and Hans the Colonel and 
 Gerald exchanging salutation, and Hans retiring 
 without acknowledging Gerald's bow. Magdalene, 
 as Gerald looks after Hans, takes his hand on the 
 other side Gerald looks round. 
 
 Ger. Well, dearest. 
 
 Mag. That letter, Gerald, bears bad news. 
 
 Ger. | Taking her tenderly^ in his arms.] Mag, my girl, 
 'tis the first time I ever wished to contradict you. 
 
 Mag. Oh, Gerald how kindly you tell of ruin. 
 
 Ger. You have said the word Magdalene, I'm a ruined 
 man. This letter from Dillon tells me, that house and all 
 ay, every acre I possessed, is forfeited. And who do 
 you think has got old Ballygrath, the seat of my fathers for 
 five hundred years 1 Why, that Dutch boor who has just 
 left us. 
 
 Mag-. What ! he ? Then heaven help us ! 
 
 Ger. Singular chance that I should have saved the life 
 of my despoiler, and that my own threshold should have 
 proved the shelter of my direst foe. 
 
 Mag. Think you he knew it ? 
 
 Ger. I'll swear he didn't; for, if he did, he's just the 
 gentleman who would have turned me out of my own 
 house with very little ceremony. No, Dillon sent me the 
 intelligence by express, and the Dutchman manifestly 
 knows not the fortune that awaits him. Magdalene, a 
 thought occurs to me the Colonel said he expected the 
 arrival of important dispatches from Dublin ; as sure as 
 fate, they are the decrees of the Commissioners allotting 
 the lands I must away to Swords. 
 
 Mag Oh, Gerald ! leave me not here. 
 
12 THE WHITE HOUSE [At'f I 
 
 Ger. No, my girl, Phelim shall conduct you and the 
 children to the Priory of Tristeroah, which will shelter 
 you for the present. Do you think I would leave you here 
 to be insulted, perhaps, in your own home 1 
 
 Mag. Our home no more Oh, bitter thought. 
 
 Gcr. Mag, my girl, do not despond thus, though I am 
 an outlaw. 
 
 Mag. What a fearful sound has that word, though I 
 know not quite its meaning. 
 
 Ger. Why, my dear, being out of the law is rather 
 worse than beingjn of it ; so it must be the devil intirely. 
 But don't despair-^M won't give up my dirty acres, Mag, 
 quite so easy as tl?ey think. 
 
 Mag. You would not be so mad as to resist them ] 
 
 Ger. Not by force, Mag, but by stratagem. By good 
 luck, that Dutchman neither knows my name, nor the 
 name of my estate. Now I'll be off to Swords, and pre- 
 pare a plan of defence against him, that I hope may bo- 
 ther the Dutchman, my girl. 
 
 Mag. But if it fail our home and country are lost to 
 us. 
 
 Ger. Well, even then, our plate and jewels will furnish 
 means to bear us to France, and there this sword, which 
 fii'st I drew as a volunteer in the cause of my country, 
 nust serve me for a profession in a foreign land but even 
 there, though absent from Ireland, we shall be amongst 
 our countrymen. Many an Irish refugee is there; for the 
 lily of France gives glorious shelter to the exiles from the 
 land of the Shamrock. [Exeunt, R. 
 
 SCENE II. Another 'Room in BallygartJi House. 
 
 Enter AGATHA and PHELIM, L. 
 
 Aga. You must order the orses immediately, Phelim 
 1 must go to the convent directly. 
 
 Phe. You going to a convent, Aggy? you ! 
 
 Aga. Yes. [Sighing.] I'm going, Phelim. 
 
 Phe. Well, I never could have thought of your going 
 to a convent. 
 
 Aga. Why, Phelim, these are such bad times, that no 
 young man can think of marrying now a girl may as well 
 go to a convent as not. 
 
SciSK II.] OF THE PEPPERS. 13 
 
 Pke. Then you are determined on a convent. 
 
 Aga. Why, I'm going only on trial at first; my lady is 
 going and so i am to follow her. 
 
 'Pke. Then you are not going directly. 
 
 Aga. Not directly. 
 
 Phe. Oh! 
 
 Aga. I would, though, only our master bid me go to 
 Swords first the moment I'm done there, I'll go to a nun- 
 nery ; it's the safest place in these times for a young wo- 
 man who has no one to protect her. 
 
 Phe. Oil, Aggy, if you'd only give me the right to pro- 
 tect you. 
 
 [Attempts to take her round the waist she runs away. 
 
 Aga. Well, I never saw the like o' that So, sir, be- 
 cause I say a word about protection, you make up to me, 
 as if there wasn't Mick Mullohawn, and Dennis Delany, 
 and Peter Purcell, and Roger O'Raflferty. 
 
 Phe. That rake Rafferty, whom you never knew till last 
 week. 
 
 Aga. Well, I'll know more of him before long. 
 
 Phe. Why talk thus of the acquaintances of yesterday 
 to me, who have known you from childhood. Can you 
 forget how we have run in the wild glen, and plucked wild 
 flowers together ? Oh, Aggy I love you now as dearly 
 as I loved you then. 
 
 DUET. 
 
 Phe. Oh, don't you remember the beautiful glade, 
 
 Where in childhood together we playfully strayed, 
 Where wreaths of wild flowers so often I've made, 
 
 Thy tresses so brightly adorning ? 
 Both. Oh, light of heart and foot were then 
 The happy children of the glen ; 
 The cares that shade the brows of inen, 
 Ne'er darken childhood's morning. 
 
 Aga. Oh, who can forget the young innocent hours 
 
 We have passed in the shade of our home's happy bowers, 
 When the treasure we sought for was only wild flowers, 
 Arid we thought ourselves rich when we fpund them. 
 
 Both. Oh, where's the tie that friends e'er knew 
 So freei from stain,, so firm, so true, 
 As links that with the wild flow'rs grew, 
 
 -X"~ And in sweet fetters bound them. [Exeunt, R. 
 
THE WHITE HORSE J- ACT f 
 
 SCENE 111 The Village of Swords. -Round Tower and 
 Cathedral in the distance Stone Cross in the middle 
 of the **reet~a Public House, L. s. F,, the sign of the 
 " Pig and Whistle." 
 
 DARBY DONAGHUE, the Landlord, serving the Peasants with 
 
 drm/c tie PORTREEVE and a couple ^BURGESSES in 
 
 consultation at the Stone Gross they come forward when 
 
 the Curtain rises, and Darby Donaghue joins them. 
 
 Port I tell you, fellow-townsmen, something must be 
 
 r 6 r%; n ? Ur f the countl T- What do you say ] 
 [Tke Villagers shout faintly.] Right, boys, right! I see 
 your spirit is up 
 
 Dar. I tell you, Mister Portreeve, there is no use in try- 
 ing to get up a skrimmage. Just tell the boys to be quiet, 
 and when they've sold their pigs, spend their money like 
 dacent men, in getting drunk at the Pig and Whistle 
 
 fort. Darby Donaghue, I think you have been setting 
 them the example yourself, or you would not presume to 
 to address me in that manner. Remember, I am the Por- 
 treeve of this borough. 
 
 Dar So you want to come over me with the grandeur 
 Whistle 6 P rtreeve ' * am land ^rd of the Pig and 
 
 Port. Well, whistle for your pig, sir, but don't pre- 
 sume to interfere with my authority. Countrymenthe 
 ountry never can get on unless we make a stand. 
 
 Dar. That's a queer way of getting on, and if that's 
 your plan, why didn't you act upon it the other day at 
 .he battle; it's rather late to make a stand now, and by 
 the same token, I did not see you in the field Where 
 were you then ] Where were you at the skrimmage of 
 bkernes ? the rising of Balrothery, and the fight of Fel- 
 trum ? Eh ! 
 
 Port. I and the Burgesses in Council assembled, were 
 engaged in taking measures for your safety. 
 
 Dar. And no man fitter to do that same, seeing that you 
 are a tailor; but take my advice, and have nothino- to do 
 with any measures but your own parchment ones. 
 
 Port. Darby Donaghue, you forget yourself. Fellow- 
 :ouritrymen, hear me here are some resolutions I have 
 
SCENE TIT.] 
 
 OF THE PEPPERS. 15 
 
 prepared. [Displays a long paper the Villagers shout 
 strutting about consequentially^ There, Darby Donaghue 
 they will support their Portreeve ! 
 
 Dar. Do you think it's for you they are shouting Cock 
 you up, indeed ! No, 'tis for Master Gerald Pepper. 
 
 [Villagers shout. 
 
 Enter GERALD, PHELIM, and AGATHA. 
 
 Ger. Well, boys, I'm glad to see you What are you 
 doing here, Mister Portreeve 1 
 
 Port. Here, Master Pepper, are some resolutions I have 
 prepared. 
 
 Ger. Worthy Portreeve, take my advice, and keep all 
 your resolution for yourself, for I assure you, you'll want 
 it ; [To Villagers.] and you, boys, be as quiet as mice, for 
 I can tell you, there's a cat abroad with mighty long claws, 
 that will play old scratch with you if you stir. 
 
 Port. Master Pepper, these fellows are full of spirit. 
 
 Ger. Which Darby Donaghue can account for; eh, 
 Darby ] Worthy Portreeve, the spirit which men get in 
 a public house is poor stuff no offence to you, Darby, at 
 the same time. 
 
 Port. But I have yet to notice our rights and privileges, 
 our tenures our and so on. 
 
 Dar. It's easy for you, a tailor, to say, sew on. 
 
 Port. Master Pepper, must we forfeit our honour ? 
 
 Ger. All I can tell you is, sir, that they are forfeiting 
 our property as fast as they can. 
 
 Port. Our property ! 
 
 Ger. I am sorry to say,|||Bbw it to my cost, for they 
 have not left me an acre. [Villagers express sorrow.] Now, 
 what do you say to that 1 
 
 Port. [Looking at the Burgesses dolefully.] We'll re- 
 tire, and consider the subject. 
 
 [Exeunt Portreeve and Burgesses, L. 
 
 Ger. He's gone, and he's no loss, for he'll never want 
 a goose as long as he's alive himself. Now, boys, listen 
 to me ! 
 
 Vil. We will, Master Gerald : yo i were always our 
 friend. 
 
 Ger. And am still, boys, and I tell you, keep quiet. I 
 have told you that all my lands are forfeited. 
 
16 THE WHITK HORSE [Act I. 
 
 Omnes. Shame ! shame ! 
 
 Ger. Now, boys, that's not right ! at least, I think so. 
 For, upon my word, I think I could take care of my own 
 property as well as another, boys. 
 
 Dar. And a good landlord you were always. 
 
 Ger. And a foreign stranger amongst you wouldn't be 
 natural. 
 
 Omnes. No ! no ! 
 
 Ger. Well, now listen to me. There's a big blackguard, 
 with a long sword by his side, coming down here to take 
 my property from me ; but, before he can take it, you 
 know he must find it, do you perceive 1 
 
 Dar. Not all on't. 
 
 Ger. You see, boys, this fellow who's coming down, 
 doesn't know my place any more than the man in Jericho, 
 and of course, he must ask for it to find it. Now, spread 
 far and wide over the barony, that this marauder is com- 
 ing, and you and all your friends must remember, that any 
 stranger asking the way to Ballygarth, must get for an- 
 swer, that nobody knows such a place. 
 
 Dar. That's elegant ! 
 
 Ger. None of you know the way, boys, do you ? 
 
 Omnes. Not one ! 
 
 Ger. I knew you wouldn't you never took a run with 
 the dogs over my green hills, nor you never got a glass of 
 whiskey from the kind Misthress, nor you never got a 
 warm seat by my kitchen fire ! You don't know such a 
 place as Ballygarth, boys 1 
 
 Omnes. Hurra ! hurra ! g^^ 
 
 Ger. I see you're up to lW*and you, Darby Donaghue, 
 if any one asks for my name, give him your own, say 
 " Dunna who." And if he asks you for a guide for you 
 know he must come to the Pig and Whistle recommend 
 him me. 
 
 Dar. You, Master Gerald 1 
 
 Ger. Yes. I'll put myself into the shape of a bog-trot- 
 ter ; and if I don't lead him a dance that will astonish him, 
 may I be pickled for fasting fare, and mashed up with badl 
 potatoes. And now, boys, some of you must lend me your 
 clothes. 
 
 1st Vil. I will, sir ! 
 
 Ger. Tut, man ! you're too much of a gentleman. 
 
SCENE III.] 
 
 OF THE PEPPERS. 17 
 
 2d Vil. I will, sir ! 
 
 Ger. Pho ! You're another flower of the flock ; but if 
 there's a wild bird amongst ye, whose feathers are ruffled 
 a bit, he'll oblige me to shake down his plumage here, and 
 I'l give him gold for it. 
 
 Rajf. [ Very ragged.'] Here, Master Gerald ! 
 
 Ger. You're the posy ! the wild and picturesque flower 
 fit to bloom in a bog what's your name '1 
 
 Raf. Rafferty! 
 
 Ger. A capital name ! I wouldn't ask a better. Raf- 
 ferty, you must sell me your clothes I'll give you a gui- 
 nea for every button you have on them, and that won't be 
 much. I couldn't afford to pay you at the same rate for 
 the skewers ; now into the house with you, and take a ten- 
 der adieu of your finery, for it's the last you'll see of it 
 away with you. [Rafferty enters house.\ Darby, do you fol- 
 low him, and when the duds are off, shake them out of the 
 window, for though I have bought the property, i don't 
 want the tenantry with it. [Darby enters house.] Phelirn, 
 is your lady safely bestowed 1 
 
 Phe. She is, sir ; safe in the priory. 
 
 Ger. I say, boys, I wish this Dutchman to see you mer- 
 ry. Here's a girl [To Agatha,} will dance any two of 
 you down. [ Villagers seem disinclined.] What, not dance 1 
 they must be sad days in Ireland when a jig is refused ; 
 but, Aggy, though they won't dance with you, they'll be 
 glad to hear you sing some sweet song of your own land. 
 That is left us, at all events for let our foes strip us of 
 what they may, they can never rob us of our native music. 
 
 [Exit into house, L. s. E. 
 
 SONG.-r-AGATHA. 
 
 Oh, native music, beyond comparing, 
 
 The sweetest far on the ear that falls ; 
 Thy gentle numbers the heart remembers, 
 Thy strains enchain us in memory's thralls ; 
 Thy tones endearing, 
 Or sad, or cheering, 
 The absent soothe on a foreign strand. 
 Oh, who can tell 
 What a holy spell 
 Is in the sang of our native land. 
 
 [The last three lines repeated in Chorut. 
 The .proud and lowly, the pilgrim holy, 
 The lover, kneeling at beauty's shrine^ 
 
18 THE WHITE HORSE 
 
 [ACT I. 
 
 The bard who dreams by the haunted streams, 
 All, all, are touched by thy power divine. 
 The captive cheerless, 
 The soldier fearless, 
 The mother, taught by nature's hand. 
 Her child, when weeping, 
 Will lull to sleeping, 
 "With some sweet song of her native land. 
 
 [CJwrus as before. 
 
 [Hans Mansfeldt shouts without, L. u. E. 
 Phe. Here's the Dutchman, Darby! Darby! [Goes to 
 house and calls out.~\ Darby Donaghue ! 
 
 Enter DARBY from house % L. s. E. 
 
 Dar. Here, your honour, here ! 
 
 Phe. Run and take his horse ! [Exit Darby, L. u. E. 
 Hans. [ Without ] Ouse ! ouse ! 
 
 Darby. [ Without, L. u. E.] This way, your honour, this 
 way ! 
 
 Enter HANS and DARBY, L. u. E. 
 
 [Bowing him in.] Your servant, sir. What's your will ? 
 
 Hans. Zome drink vor myself voorst. [Exit Darby into 
 house.] Donderskind ! vaut a bad roats, and vaut a back 
 o' plockheads all dis beople's ! Nopoty knows notin ! I 
 dink I have de name roight. [Takes out a piece of folded 
 parchment, and reads] Ya ! Ballagarde ! Mynheer Beb- 
 ber. [Puts up parchment] Veil ! dis is some goot for to 
 voight for. Ven you vins a vield o' pattle in oder goun- 
 try, it is notin but to kill von anoder dis day, vor to voight. 
 again to-mawrow ; but in Irelandt, veri you vins the vields 
 o' pattle, you vins de vields demselfs. Ha ! dat is goot ! 
 I like to voight in Irelant ! Ya ! and I dink de people's 
 demselfs likes to voight too ! 
 
 Re-enter DARBY from house, with a tankard, which 
 HANS drinks from. 
 
 Ya, dat is goot I Wasn't I dursty ! [Hands bach the tan- 
 hard, empty.] 
 
 Dar. [Looking into it.] Ton my word you wor, sur. 
 
 Hans. Mine vriend, do you know von blace somevere 
 bout here call Ballagarde ? 
 
 Dar. Ball ball what, sir ] 
 
rtOKWE HI.] 
 
 OF THE PEPPERS. 19 
 
 Hans. Ballagarde ! 
 
 Dar. Indeed, not one o'me knows the place, sir. 
 
 Hans. Ha ! plockhead, loike the rest. Ax all dese 
 beople here about dat place. 
 
 Dar. Come here, .you chaps. [Villagers advance.] Do 
 you know such a place as Bunna Bunna Breena, is it, 
 sir? 
 
 Hans. No, Ballagarde ! [ Villagers shake their heads 
 
 Phe. Not exactly ! 
 
 Raf. May be 'twould be Bunratty, your honour would 
 want? 
 
 Hans. No, Bun tiefel ! 
 
 Dar. I don't know that place either, your honour. 
 
 Hans. Splut I do you know who you are yourzelf 1 
 
 Dar. Donaghue ! 
 
 Hans. Tiefel ! he dunna who ! Ha, ha ! Is dere nobo- 
 ty to shew me mine roat ? 
 
 Dar. There is a boy in the house, drinking, who knows 
 the country well. 
 
 Hans. Gall him to me ! Gall him ! Gall the poy ! 
 
 Dar. [Calling.] Here, Rafferty ! Rafferty ! 
 
 Ger. [ Without.] Here I am, your sowl ! [Sings. 
 
 Enter GERALD, disguised as a ragged, red-haired peasant , 
 from house, L. s. E. 
 
 Hans. You said dis vas a poy ! 
 
 Ger. Well, I'm not a girl, am 1 1 
 
 Hans. Are you de kite ? 
 
 Gf. [Looking at his rags.] A kite ? Faith, you might 
 By me, I dare say, with a strong string and a high wind. 
 
 Hans. Do you know de fay ] 
 
 Ger. Know the way the way to fly is it] 
 
 Hans. No, the way to Ballagarde ] 
 
 Ger. To be sure I do where is it ] 
 
 Hans. Vere! I vant you to dell me dat. 
 
 Ger. Well, describe the thing to me, and I'll imagine 
 it immediately. 
 
 Hans. Imashin ! splut ! you no kite if you not know. 
 
 Ger. You're a stupid man : that's not the way' we do 
 things here at all. You see I'm a bard. 
 
 Hans. A bart, vat is dat? 
 
 Ger. I'm a puet ! 
 
20 THE WHITE HORSE 
 
 [ACT i. 
 
 Hans. Ah, boor man ! I bity you. 
 
 Ger. Pity, did you say pity ] is it pity me, that is, the 
 bard of Green Erin. Whoo ! thank you for nothing ! 
 keep your pity to curl your hair ! I wouldn't exchange 
 places wid you, I can tell you, wherever 'tis your're go- 
 ing. 
 
 Hans. I vant to go to Ballagarde. 
 
 Ger. Oh, I think I know where you mane now ; who 
 lives in it ] 
 
 Hans. Von Bepper ! 
 
 Ger. Pepper ? Phew ! by dad, you might sarch half 
 the counthry, and not find out the right man you want; 
 for them Peppers is as thick as rabbits in the back of a 
 ditch the counthry is over run wid them ! 
 
 Hans. Indeed ! 
 
 Ger. Sure ^here's no end to them. There's not names 
 enough in the alphabet for them, so we're obleeged to in- 
 vint names to circumscribe them. There is a dark wicked 
 thief that is called Black Pepper and a whey-faced 
 blackguard that is called White Pepper and a bull-head- 
 ed vagabone, with a carrotty wig, we call Red Pepper 
 and a fine sthrapping fellow, the full of a door, that we 
 call Whole Pepper and a dawnshee craythur, about as 
 high as my knee, we call Ground Pepper, and a poor 
 cripple among them, that limps as he goes^ we call Pep- 
 per-corn and he has a spiteful little wife, that we call 
 " Ginger" and I think that's a high saisoned family for 
 you They're a perfect cruet-stand in themselves. 
 
 Hans. Vat a family ! 
 
 Ger. Now, which of them is it you want] Black Pep- 
 per, White Pepper, Red Pepper, Whole Pepper, Pepper- 
 Corn, or Little Ginger ] 
 
 Hans. Splut ! I don't know but Ballagarde is de 
 blace. 
 
 Ger. Arrah, then ! where is it at all Darby, would it 
 be the castle, I wondher 1 
 
 Hans. Ha ! to be zure de gastle, dat is de blace. 
 [^sjcfc.] I vill dry de gastle vurst, however. 
 
 Ger. Oh, then I'll bring you there straight: will you 
 start now 1 
 
 Hans. Nien ! 
 
 Ger. At nine that will be rather late. 
 
SCENE HZ.] 
 
 OF THE PEPPERS. 21 
 
 Hans. 1 zay no 
 
 Ger. But I say yes ! 
 
 Hans. Splut ! 1 say nien in my language, dat is no. 
 
 Ger. Oh, nine is no in Dutch. 
 
 Hans. Ya ! 
 
 Ger. Then I suppose eighteen means yis for we lo- 
 gicians say, two neggitations makes a confirmation. 
 
 Hans. Ah, dat is boetry. I don't oonderstand boetry. 
 [To Darby.] I vant zomeding vor mine dinner. 
 
 Ger. Well, if you don't undherstand rhyme, you're up 
 to rayson, I see, by axin for your dinner ; so get a snap 
 o'something at wanst, for we have no time to lose. [Hans 
 caters the house, L. u. E., with Darby. Looking about.] 
 Aggy ! Phelim, where is Aggy 1 
 
 P/ie. She is gone to the Priory, sir. 
 
 Ger. Then you must go after her, for I've work for her 
 to do ; arid you, too, Phelim. First you must lead Don- 
 aghue arid a party of fellows to the bog, near the Snipe's 
 Shallow, where they must remain concealed until I shall 
 join them. Then proceed to the Priory, conduct your 
 mistress to Ballygarth, arid let Aggy dress herself up as 
 an old crone, and go off to the old ruined house, where 
 she must wait for me : get a couple of pigs about the 
 place, and a sheaf of straw by way of a feather bed a 
 blanket a three-legged stool a salt herring, and a few 
 potatoes. Be off, now. [Phelim is going.} I say, Phelim, 
 .she. may as well have a bottle of whiskey too, [Exit Phe- 
 um,'R.] for I suspect that poor devil of a Dutchman will 
 ' want something to refresh him, and I don't mean to kill him 
 entirely. And now my plans are ripening into execution. 
 [Looks down at d?-ess.\ What a figure I cut, to be sure ! 
 My own dogs would hunt me from my door. Gerald 
 Pepper, is it worthy of an Irish gentleman, and the des- 
 ^cendant of an old family, to make a mummer of himself, 
 and play off as many tricks as a fox ! But why does the 
 fox play tricks 1 Because he's hunted ! and so am I 
 the oppressed and the pursued alike are driven to strata- 
 gem to escape destruction. 
 
 Enter HANS and DARBY from the house, L. s. E. 
 Hans. You are sure, now, dis kite know de vay. 
 T)ar. Oh, he knows the whole country round. [Exit. 
 
22 THE WHITE HORSE 
 
 [ACT I. 
 
 Ger. Aye, and square, too and thriangular into the 
 bargain. And if you'd want any sporting I'm the fel- 
 7ow to show it you hunting, shooting, fishing, coortin, 
 fighting, or marryin', which is much the same thing ; 
 and I can write songs for you, and sing them too ; and if 
 you should be killed, it's myself could put an iligant epi- 
 thet over you. Whoo ! I'm the boy for every thing. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Whoo ! I'm a ranting, roving blade, 
 
 Of never a thing I was ever afraid, 
 
 I'm a gintleman born, and I scorn a trade, 
 
 And I'd be a rich man if my debts was paid. 
 
 But my debts is worth something this truth they instill, 
 That pride makes us fall, all against our will, 
 For 'twas pride that broke me I was happy until 
 I was ruined all out by my tailor's bill. 
 
 I'm the finest guide that ever you see, 
 I know every place of curosity, 
 From Ballinafad unto Tander-a-gee, 
 And if you're for sport come along wid me 
 
 I'll lade you sportin' round about, 
 We've wild-ducks, and widgeon, and snipe, and throut, 
 And I know where they are and what they're about, 
 And if they're not at home then I'm sure they're out. 
 
 The miles in this country much longer be, 
 But that is a saving of time you see, 
 For two of our miles is equal to three, 
 Which shortens the road in a great degree. 
 
 And the roads in this place is so plenty, we say 
 That you've nothing to do but to find your way, 
 If your hurry's not great, and you've time to delay, 
 You can go the short cut that's the longest way 
 
 And Til show you good drinking too, 
 I know the place' where the whiskey grew, 
 A bottle is good, when it's not too new, 
 And I'm fond of one but I doat on two ! 
 
 Truth is scarce when liars is near, 
 But squeeling is plenty when pigs you shear, 
 And iiiuttoii is high when cows is dear 
 And rint it is scarce four times a year. 
 
 Such a country for growing you ne'er did behowld. 
 
 We grow rich when we're poor, we grow hot when we're 
 
 cowld, 
 
 And the girls know that bashfulness makes UB grow bowld, 
 We grow voung when we like, but we never grow owld. 
 
 \ 
 
SCENR I.] OF THE PEPPERS. 23 
 
 And the sivin small sinses grow natural here, 
 For praties has eyes and can see quite clear, 
 And the kittles is singing with scalding tears, 
 And the corn fields is list'nin' with all their ears. 
 
 But along with sivin sinsis we have one more, 
 Of which I forgot to tell you before, 
 It is NONSENSE, spontaneously gracing our shore, 
 And I'll tell you the rest when I think of nlore. 
 
 END OP ACT I. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The Snipe's Shallow a low, sedgy, plashy fore- 
 ground, in the distance an extensive range of bog, small 
 turf clamps heaped in roics along the surface of the bog. 
 A group of men crouching under tall flaggers and bull- 
 rushes. 
 
 PHELIM and DARBY DONAGHUE looking out, L. u. E. 
 
 Dar. N ew,- boys, be on the watch, and while you lie 
 down in the rushes and keep yourselves as snug and as 
 secret as a snipe in the sedge, have a good look-out. 
 
 1st Pea. But what's all this for 1 
 
 Dar. Because the master may want our help, no know- 
 ing when, and we must hang on his path, and be ready 
 when I give the signal. He is coming, and is not fax* off 
 either. *_ 
 
 1st Pea. But I don't understand about this hide and 
 seek with the villain that comes to rob him of his land. I 
 think the way to settle the business would be to kill him 
 at once. I'd do it, and not think much of it either. 
 
 Dar. Master Gerald won't hear of that : he charged me 
 beyond all things to save the soldier from bodily harm, 
 and only to frighten him. 
 
 1st Pea. The master is too soft-hearted. I wish I had 
 my will of this outlandish robber. [Looks at his gun. 
 
 Dar. Dennis, I'm afraid to trust you, a gun in the hand 
 of a dark-tempered man is dangerous. \Takesgunfrom 
 Dennis. Shout outside, L. u. E.J Down down down 
 lie low. [J\fen conceal themselves Darbi/ looks out shouts 
 outside, L. u. E.] 'Tis the masther and the Dutchman. Ha, 
 
24 THE WHITE HORSE [Acx 11. 
 
 ha, ha! He has brought him over the soft bog. The 
 Dutchman's horse is stuck fast, down he goes, deeper and 
 deeper. Spur away, soldier, 'your horse will not get out 
 of that without more help than you can give. Ha, ha ! 
 The Dutchman is off, he is up to his knees in the slough, 
 and flounders like a new caught salmon. 
 
 [Shout outside, L. u. E. Darby answers the shout and 
 exit. 
 
 Hans. [Outside] Der tiefel ! der tiefel ! 
 
 Ger. Aisy ! aisy ! you're out now ; come along, your 
 honour. 
 
 Enter GERALD and HANS, L. u. E., muck splashed with mud. 
 
 Hans. Donder arid blitzen, vot a blace to pring me to ! 
 Mine orse is up to his neg, he vill be lost. 
 
 Ger, Oh, no ; nothing is ever lost that we leave in the 
 bog. He'll stop when he gets to the bottom. 
 
 Hans. But he vill be smoder ! 
 
 Ger. Barring that he has a touch of the duck in him, 
 and can hould his breath hard, and dive a taste. 
 
 Hans. Splut, vat a vool you are ! 
 
 Ger. It's not me's a fool but the liorse was a fool to 
 put his fut in the soft place. 
 
 Hans. Pah ! no orse but rooste go down dere. 
 
 Ger. That shows how little you know about jography. 
 I give you my honour, an Irish horse would have stept 
 over that as clane as a new pin. 
 
 Hans. But dat is an Irish orse ! 
 
 Ger. Do you tell me so ? 
 
 Hans. Ya! 
 
 Ger. Oh, then it's keeping company with them Jarman 
 horses that has spylt him. It shows what evil compan- 
 ions will do. 
 
 Hans. Donderskind ! den vy did you yourzelf zink in 
 de mode 1 
 
 Ger. Sure that was thrying to get you out, only for that 
 I wouldn't be the figure I am, bad luck to it, my new 
 clothes is ruined. 
 
 Hans. Your new glothes ? Ha, ha, ha ! dat is goot. 
 
 Ger. Why, being the fair day at the town, of course I 
 put them on. Indeed, I was savin them up for Sundays 
 and holidays, but I think F may take to wearing them out 
 
SCENE 1.1 OF THE PEPPERS, 23 
 
 J 
 
 now. You ought to thank this gentleman for helpin us. 
 [Pointing to Darby, who is*up the stage. 
 
 Hans. Dis is anoder sbentlemans, I suppose \ [Aside.] 
 Mine Got, vaut a gountry ! 
 
 Ger. To be sure he's a gintleman, when he behaved as 
 sitch. And may be, sir, you'd be telling us would we be 
 far from the castle of Ballygarth 1 
 
 Dar. You're not far off it now. As soon as you reach 
 the next rising ground you'll see it before you 'tis the 
 next estate to mine. 
 
 Hans. Your esdate ! you ab an esdate ] Ha, ha ! 
 
 Ger. [ To Hans.] I say, your honour, as you're a new- 
 comer into the counthry, I'd recommend you to be civil 
 to the genthry, for they are mighty high. This is a Mem- 
 ber o' Parliament, though you would't think it. 
 
 Dar. This is a fine country, sir ] 
 
 Hans. Peautiful ! [Aside.] I vish I vas out of it. 
 
 Dar. This estate of mine is called Ballydniggle'um. 
 
 Hans. Goot name, dat Dragle'um ; vat mean Bally 1 
 
 Ger. Oh, all the names here are poetical and descrip- 
 tive. Bally signifies the pride of, and Draggle'um means 
 bog, so Ballydraggle'um is the pride of the bog ! 
 
 Hans. Veil, and mine gastlc is Ballagarde : now vaut is 
 dat? 
 
 Ger. Why, garth is forest, so Ballygarth is the pride of 
 the forest. 
 
 Hans. Oh, den, de gastle is build in a vaurest ? 
 
 Ger. Oh, a lovely forest as you would see in a sum- 
 mer's day, 
 
 Hans. Den de dimber vill be gut down very zoon. Ha, 
 ha ! dimbers is money ! 
 
 Ger. Thrue for you, sir limbers is money where wood 
 is scarce, and you see all our timber here is made of bul- 
 rushes but I think we had better be jogging, now, your 
 honour. 
 
 Hans, But I gannot jog mid out mine orse vat vill 1 
 do midout mine orse ] 
 
 Ger. Oh, don't be afraid of losin' him, he can't run 
 away out of where he is, and we'll find him when we're 
 coming back. 
 
 Hans. But he vill be smoder. 
 
 Ger. \To Darby.} Arrali. then, sir, perhaps your honour 
 
g6 THE WHITK 1'ORSE [AcT If 
 
 would be good enough" to ordher your tinerils to dig this 
 gentleman's horse out of the bog, and send him after us 
 to Ballygarth castle. 
 
 Dar. To be sure I will. [ Whistles. The men who are 
 concealed rusk out, and crowd round Hans and Gerald. 
 
 Hans. [Starting.] Der tiefel ! vere did all dese gome 
 vrom ] 
 
 Ger. Oh, tinants are quite spontaneous in Ireland. 
 
 Hans. Splut ! did dey gome vrom de airth 1 
 
 Ger. Sure didn't we all come from the earth. 
 
 Hans. [Aside.] I don't like dis zudden bopulation. 
 [Aloud.] Ve vill go on, if you bleaze. 
 
 Ger. Indeed, it's time to be jogging, I think myself. 
 \To Darby.] Good bye, your honour, good bye, gintle- 
 men, and when you've dug up the horse send him after 
 us, and his honour here will reward you handsomely, arid 
 he'll do the same by me, 1 know, in regard of the cruel 
 way my new clothes is spylt with that blackguard bog. 
 [^in^e.J I say, take off your hat to the gintleman. 
 
 Hans. Nein ! nein ! 
 
 Ger. His honour, here, is very polite, sir, but his hat is 
 so tight he can't get it on if he takes it off. Come on, sir, 
 step light, for fear of another soft place. 
 
 [Exeunt Hans and Gerald, L. 
 
 Dar. Down, boys, and watch again, for the masther 
 will have more work for us. [The men crouch, and Darby 
 follows Gerald and. Hans, with a cautious look-out. 
 
 SCENE II. The Priory of Tristcrnah. 
 
 Enter PHELIM and AGATHA, from door in flat. 
 
 Phe. Now, Aggy, you understand 1 
 
 Aga. To be sure I understand, do you think it's stupid 
 I am *? So, I arn to go to the old castle ] 
 
 Phe. Yes. 
 
 Aga. And pretend to be taking care of it ! 
 
 Phe. Yes! 
 
 Aga. And make myself old and ugly 1 
 
 Phe. You couldn't do that, Aggy ? 
 
 Aga. Wait till awhile ago, and you'll see. [ Throws the 
 hood of her cloak over her head, and assumes an old woman's 
 voice.] Well, your honour, it's three-score years and ten 
 
II.] OF THE PEPPERS. 27 
 
 since I came to the place ; 'tis a long time, your hono/ar. 
 an old woman now, though I was once yetting. 
 W-s of hood.] Will that do 1 
 
 J'ou make a capital old woman. 
 
 Aga. May be you'd rather have an old than a young 
 :e. 
 Phe. I'd like, to begin with one young, ..fche'd grow old 
 
 one. 
 
 he. I'd lik 
 in time. \. 
 
 
 Aga. Well, wait^br her, then, and- Very good work for 
 you. \ / 
 
 Phe. Aggy, you're a^rogue. J 
 
 Aga. There's a pair ofSjs, IJJielim. 
 
 Phe. You saucy jade, yjjU're up to every roguery ; 
 when you speak under theU/'lifcod, one would fancy your 
 nose and chin met. J& ^. 
 
 Aga. But they don't/you see : nether my nose nor my 
 chin is in the way of my mouth. **% 
 
 Phe. I'll try thaft'Aggy. N v [Kisses her. 
 
 Aga. [Slaps Phelim'sface.\ You impudent fe 
 
 &&v" -E'Je 1' tie I - " ~~.~ .-" -,:."""'-'""" '"'" 
 
 Bless me, he saw us ! 
 Daughter, for shame ! 
 
 4 -4gY?XHe's my cousin, your reverence, 
 away, an^sl don't know when I may see 
 
 Friar. D ^&gH~f erT'ffiyT^lufatibil 1 ' savour 
 fection than relSfei^iiship. 
 
 Aga. We're botn^f affection ate ^ismures, sir. 
 
 . >^ [Convent bell sounds, L. 
 
 Friar. 'Tis the converhi.^! 'tis fitter you were at 
 vespers, than at such leav^fflMg. If I were your father 
 confessor, I would maj^jou perform a penance. 
 
 ^r ^V [Exit, D. F. 
 
 Aga. You myJferfner confessor, inde^NU I wouldn't have 
 such an uglyffcffher confessor as that, if iN^yas obliged to 
 go to the nxt parish for another ; and his impudence, too 
 convert bell, indeed, just as if nobody kisseoS^girl be- 
 fore. /Convent bell, to be sure ! I can tell you, mgrold 
 gentleman, there's a story of one of youi 
 
28 THE WHITK HOUSE [Acx II. 
 
 - ' 
 
 risternah here, and I could let you know what becami 
 of ins minding the convent bell if I dare. 
 
 SONG. AGATHA. 
 
 here once was a novice, as I've heard tell, 
 
 Jknovice of some renown ; 
 Whofce raven hair in ringlets fell, 
 
 O'eiPlus yet unshaven crown. ./f 
 
 But his^ws as yet he had never said, ^jr 
 Except tol^)lue-eyed blooming maid. 
 And she had iiever confessed till now.^ 
 To that novice\*ho yet had not majBa vow ; 
 So pious she grev^-that early andpate 
 She was tapping a%ne at the convent gate. 
 And so often she weii^er sj^T to tell, 
 That the villager scallce^^ the Convent Belle. 
 Ding " 
 My a _ 
 My song's of a Coyj^it Belli 
 
 The novice contiBraed the maid 
 
 And swiftl^ffine months flew roi 
 He had nea^ passed his trial year, 
 
 Beforejjs was guilty found. 
 But thejffsuspicion began to^ 
 So thj^owl he c^* 
 
 Thiroiaiden he wedded next morning tide, 
 fid his penitent pale was his blooming bride, 
 he Prior he stormed at the bridegroom meeV 
 
 ile75n hischeek, 
 
 " Good father, indeed I have acted well, 
 I was only ringing the Convent Belle." 
 ^ Ding dong, 
 
 V My song, 
 
 My sog's of a Convent Belle. 
 
 -._- _.,-'- - - -..' .i 
 
 SCENE III. Dusk. A ruined Castellated House, greater 
 part of the roof, gone ike mullioyd of the windows 
 broken part of the walls fallen.^- A window R. u. E. 
 the stage opens at tlie back wjim staircase broken bal- 
 lusters a table and rushlfyfit upon it. 
 
 Enter GERALD awdTJJANs up tketrap at the back. 
 
 Ger. There's an jJJfgant place for y^. 
 
 Hans. [Horrifi&Z.] Vaut a blace ! 
 
 Ger. I thought you'd be astonished 1 *\ 
 
 Hans, ^'fam ! 
 
 Gcr.jJ&n't that an illigant castle ] and you see they 
 havab'een expecting you, for they've got up an illumina- 
 tion. {Points to rushlight. 
 
SCENE TIT.] OF THR PKPPEKS 29 
 
 Hans. [Abstractedly.} Midout a vail, midout a roof, mi- 
 dout a vindher ! Zappermint ! 
 
 Ger. It's a fine airy house, and nothing to interrupt 
 the view from it. 
 
 Hans. Splut ! noting inteet. Vy, you vool, you tell me 
 dis vas build in a vaurest. 
 
 Ger. And so it was built in a forest, but that's a long 
 time ago, for this is a fine, ould, anshint place, as you may 
 see ; none o' your flirty, little, upstart places, but the rale 
 respectable antiquity. 
 
 Hans. But you tell me dere vas voots. 
 
 Ger. And so there was but woods won't last for ever. 
 
 Hans. Splut! I dought I voot gut down de dimbers. 
 
 Ger. Ay, and that was very cute of you, but there was 
 a janius in the family who thought of that before you, 
 and that's the way, in my own beautiful art of poethry, 
 that the janiuses who goes before us, is taking dirty ad- 
 vantages of us, and sayin' the things we wor goin' to say, 
 only they said them before ; in short, takin' the bread out 
 of our mouths. 
 
 Hans. Not in dis gountry. 
 
 Ger. Why not ? 
 
 Hans. Because I never see no pread in nopoty's mout 
 nere : in dis gountry dey have notin* but botatoes ! 
 
 Ger. And the finest thing under heaven is the same 
 praties, exceptin' only the people that ates them ! 
 
 Hans. I vouldn't lif in dis ouse not for notin'. 
 
 Ger. But remember, there is land along wid the house. 
 
 Hans. Ya ! verachtig ! and de lands is goot eh 1 
 
 Ger. Oh, beautiful ! there is nigh hand two hundred 
 acres of bog that was a part of it I brought you over 
 to-^ay. 
 
 Hons. Blitzen, 1 vis it vas burnt. 
 
 '. Ger. That's the use of it it makes beautiful fire ; and 
 there's some wild rocks up beyant, where the goats get 
 very nice pickin' if they're not particular. 
 
 Hans. Rocks and goats bah ? 
 
 Ger. Oh, that's what the lamb says bah ; not the goat 
 it wouldn't feed lambs, supposing you had them ! 
 
 Plans. Donderskind ! de ouse is empty. 
 
 'Ger. Well, an empty house is better than a bad tenant, 
 any clay in the year ! 
 
30 THE WHTTR HORSE [Acrll 
 
 Hans. De shimbleys be all grooked. 
 Ger. No wondher you'll be crooked yourself when 
 you're half as ould as they are. Hallo, there ! 
 Hans. Dat is a vine voice vor atin rost bif. 
 Ger. Hallo ! are you comin here to-day at all 1 
 
 Enter AGATHA, L. 3d E. 
 
 Aga. Aye, aye, I'm coming. 
 
 Ger. Young woman ! 
 
 Hans. [Astonished.] Young voomans ? 
 
 Ger. Whist ! to be sure always say young woman to 
 an ould one, and she'll be plazed with you. 
 
 Hans. Young voomans, how is all de vamily ? 
 
 Aga. There were two killed this morning. 
 
 Hans. [Aside.] All de better vor me ! [Aloud.] Vaut 
 is begone of de roof of de ouse. 
 
 Aga. We boiled it down for broth ! 
 
 Ger. And picked the rafthers after ; don't you see she's 
 bothered, and it's the pigs they killed she's spaking of. 
 
 Hans. Bodder vat is dat ] 
 
 Ger. [Points to his ears.] Deaf can't hear ! 
 
 Aga. You're right enough ; yes, yes. \Points to licr 
 ears.] I remember, you mean the last fellows we found 
 trespassing on the grounds 1 We cut off their ears. Ha, 
 ha, ha! that was a good joke. [Agatha takes table to c. 
 
 Hans. Vat a orrid voomans. 
 
 Ger. Yes, ma'am ; don't mind her, yer honour, they are 
 very polite to strangers, though they do sometimes have 
 a little sport among themselves. 
 
 Hans. Sport to gut off a man's ears 1 
 
 Ger. Do you know, then, I knew a man that had his 
 ars cut off, and he said it was rather pleasant. 
 
 Hans. Bleasant 1 
 
 Ger. Yes, indeed ; he was a bad character, you see, * 
 and when his ears was cut off, he couldn't hear anything 
 bad of himself. 
 
 Hans. \Aside.] Gut off his ears 1 don't like dis goun- 
 try ! 
 
 Ger. The ould woman says she'll give us something to 
 ate. 
 
 Hans. I vould loike someting to ate, vor I am ztarving. 
 * Aga. What would you like to eat ? 
 
SC-F.VF. ITT.] OF THK PEPPERS.- 31 
 
 Huns. You can vry a belt o' big ! 
 
 Aga. They were all planted last spring. 
 
 Ger. You forget she's deaf. [Speaks loutL] Have you a 
 rasher of bacon 1 
 
 Aga. Bacon ] Oh, no no no we can't be extrava- 
 gant now, since the last lord died. But I'll examine the 
 larder, and see what I can do for you. 
 
 [Exit down the stage. 
 
 Ger. I thought there was no pig, any how. 
 
 Hans. Vy don't dey kill de pigs ? 
 
 Ger. Kill them, indeed ! Why, man, would you be 
 committin' suicide ! Kill, indeed ! no, no, they keep the 
 pigs 
 
 Hans. Vor vaut dey geep dem ] 
 
 Ger. For ornament, to be sure ! 
 
 Hans. But she vas talkin' about killin' de big dis morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Ger. That was braggin' only ; she's an ould sarvant, 
 and wishes to support the pride of the house. 
 
 Hans. If she could zupport de ouse itself, it vould be 
 petters. 
 
 Ger. Indeed, the house might be betther : I own that 
 it's rather out of repair. 
 
 Hans. Vaut a blace to vail into mind ands. 
 
 Ger. You're just in time to catch it, I think this would 
 be a nice room for studying astronomy, for you might see 
 the lovely luminaries without goin' out into the could at 
 all. 
 
 Re-enter AGATHA, with <i disk of boiled potatoes and a her- 
 ring, from trap. 
 
 Aga. Here's something for your supper, and a seat. 
 Ger. My blessins on you ! Could you lend us the loan 
 of another stool ] 
 
 'Aga. Yes yes. I'll bring it to you. 
 Ger. No, my darlin', I'll step down and bring it my- 
 eelf. [Exeunt Agatha and Gerald, R. 
 
 Hans. [Draws up the table, lifts the dish upon it, and 
 seats himself. \ Splut ! noting but veesh salt errin ! Veil, 
 bat as dis is I vill begin to eat, vor I'm ztarvin'. 
 
 [He is going to cut the herring, when Gerald :omes in 
 and stops him. 
 
32 "THE WHITK HOUSE [ACT ! I. 
 
 Ger. Murther ! Murther ! What are you going to do, 
 man ? 
 
 Hans. To ate mine zupper ! 
 
 Ger. Goin' to cut that fish? why, it is ruinin' the family 
 entirely you'd be. 
 
 Hans. Ruin de vamily to ate von errin ? 
 
 Ger. That herring has supported this family for the 
 last six months. 
 
 Hans. Pooh ! I'm not such a vool as dat. 
 
 Ger. It's thruth I'm tellin' you. The herrins was throu- 
 bled with a scarceness last sayson, and so we must be sa- 
 vin' of the few we have of them, and only use them to 
 give the praties a flavour. 
 
 Hans. A vlavour ! vaut is dat 1 
 
 Ger. I'll shew you here, [Peels a potatoe, and Hans 
 follows his example,} take the eye out of the potatoe, and 
 then it can't see what you're doing. [Points a potatoe at 
 the herring, and then eats.] That's as fine a herring as ever 
 I ate. Oh, that's nourishing, that's what we call potatoes 
 and point, here ! 
 
 Hans. Vy, vat goot is in pointin at de veesh 1 
 
 Ger. Why, you imagine you're eating it all the time, 
 and the herring never grows less for pointing at it. 
 
 Hans. Oh, dat is vera goot vor a boet ! But I have 
 naut imaginations ! 
 
 Ger. Well, if you're a glutton, you may rub the pratie 
 to it ; but I warn you not to put your knife in that her- 
 rin', or it may be there will be a knife in you before long. 
 
 Hans. \Rubs his potatoe to herring, and cats.\ Bah ! T 
 daste notin ! 
 
 Ger. That shows you haven't a delicate taste, but when 
 your palate becomes refined you'll enjoy it, and you'll 
 never have the nightmare after it, for it's a nice light sup- 
 per. \Hands a brittle. 
 
 Hans. [D rinks.] Dat is goot. 
 
 Ger. To be sure it is ; for this is the house above all 
 others, you ought to get good dhrink in ; for it was through 
 the dhrink the family went to decay. You see, the an- 
 chient owner of this place was a knight arriant. 
 
 Hans. Knight Arriant vaut is dat? 
 
 Ger. Why, then, don't you know what a knight arriant 
 isl 
 
SCENE III.] OF THE PF.PPERS. 33 
 
 Hans, Nieri ! 
 
 Ger. That's no ! I know that much Dutch. I'd grow 
 quite accomplished in your company. Well, I must tell 
 you that a knight arriant is a man that goes about the 
 world for sport, with a sword by his side, takin' whatever 
 he likes for himself; and that's a knight arriant like 
 yourse/f, indeed, sir. Well, he improved his property, 
 by takin' every body else's that he could, and left a great 
 heap o' land to his son ; and a fine property it was ; but, 
 somehow or other, they never could live fast enough, and 
 wor gettin in debt ever more and so the property got 
 worse and worse, till the last owner found that he was 
 heir only to a thousand a-year. 
 
 Hans. A tousand a-year eh ! dat is goot. 
 
 Ger. Yes, but you see it was a thousand a-year, that 
 was spint. 
 
 Hans. Oh, it vas spend ! 
 
 Ger. Yes, and that made the man that owned it take 
 to dhrink. I'd throuble you for that bottle, [Drinks.] and 
 so the more he cRiraiik the better he liked it, which is on- 
 ly natural ; and it made him forget his losses for how 
 could he remember anything bad, when he forgot him- 
 self] And so, to supply the dhrink, he began to cut down 
 the timber. 
 
 Hans. I vish he did naut. 
 
 Ger. Indeed, it was a shame, seein' you wanted to do 
 it yourself. But, as 1 was tellin' you, he grew fonder and 
 fonder of the dhrop and indeed it's a complaint com- 
 mon in Ireland yet ; I'll take another gurlouge, if you 
 plfcase [Drinks] and dhrunk to that degree that he was 
 for ever dhry ; and the dhryer he got, the fasther went 
 the timber, and at last all the woods was sowld for dhrink, 
 so that, in fact, the timber was lost with a sort of dry rot. 
 [Noise of ?nany voices speaking, and a pistol si tot ?'<?, 
 heard. 
 
 Hans. Vaut is dat] [Jumps up. Ger. remains composed. 
 
 Ger. Oh, it's only a parcel of the young people of the 
 family enjoyin' themselves. 
 
 Hans. But I 'ear a shot. 
 
 Ger. To be sure how could they kill one another 
 without shooting wait I'll just step down and see what 
 they're about. \Gerald descends stairs. 
 
 
34 THE WHITE HORSE [Act II. 
 
 Hans. I like not rnoche dis. [Great noise below.} Dis 
 beople zeem not goot beoples did not like de beoples I 
 met dis day in de pog. Sploot, dat pog ! mine orse I 
 naut get yet. Vish I vas upon him, and von goot roat 
 unter him, vouldn't I put the zpurs in him ! [No'tsc.} I 
 dink 1 vill zee vat dey are about. [Goes to the stains \ Dey 
 are round de gorner, but dere zeem a great c|pwt. I 
 loike not dis moche. 
 
 Re-enter GERALD up the staircase. 
 
 Ger. What are you lookin' out there for ] 
 Hans. I vas only admirin' de brospect bud, I zay, as 
 dere is not much 'gomodation 'ere, I dink ve moight as 
 veil go back again. 
 
 Ger. Whist ! stay quiet a bit don't be in a hurry, or 
 you'll rise suspicions. There's my Lord Killstranger, and 
 about twenty other blackguards, below, was axin' impu- 
 dent questions about you and who you wor and what 
 you came about, and so I gave them an evasive answer. 
 Hans. Vat call you 'vasive answer 1 
 
 Ger. I tould them to go to the divil and wait till I came 
 for them ! 
 
 Hans. [ Very uneasy.] 1 dink ve had petter go pack 
 again ! 
 
 Ger. Oh, don't be in a hurry, for these is quare people. 
 You wor wondherin' about the roof being so bad but 
 I'll explain it to you. You see, the people about the cas- 
 tle stole the slates for to thatch their places ; for you must 
 know they are in the habit of burning one another's hou- 
 ses in these parts, and slates doesn't take fire so aisjf as 
 sthraw. 
 
 Hans. Dey burn de ouses, den ? 
 
 Ger. Oh, only when they have nothing else to divart 
 them ; but they never burn the people in them ! 
 
 Hans. Ah! naut de beoples? 
 
 Ger. Oh, no they wouldn't be so cruel as that ; be- 
 sides, is is betther sport to shoot them flying. 
 
 [Noise below. 
 
 Hans. Ve had petter go pack again. 
 
 Ger. I'm afeard they would suspect you of something 
 bad, if you would be goin' I wouldn't answer for your 
 throat ! 
 
R"*;NK III.] OF THE PEPPERS. 35 
 
 Hans. T am deir lantlor ; dey vould not gut mine droat. 
 
 G.er. Wouldn't they ] 'Faith they would sooner than 
 pay you your rent, I can tell you. The last landlord of 
 this place was no favourite, and he shut himself up, ac- 
 cordingly, and wouldn't open his door to man, woman, 
 or child ; but they were so determined to have him, that 
 they climbed up the castle walls, tore the roof off the 
 house to get at him, threw him out of the window, and 
 he fell upon some pitch-forks which they had outside, 
 ready for him. 
 
 Hans. [ Writhing in imagined agony.] Oh, murter ! mur- 
 terl 
 
 Ger. You may say murdher, sure enough ! But the 
 blackguards wos thried for it. 
 
 Hans. Oh, dey vos troid 1 
 
 Ger. Oh, yes. 
 
 Hans. Andhangt 1 ? 
 
 Ger. Why, they would have been only that the jury 
 was practical men themselves, and so they brought in a 
 verdict of " accidental death." 
 
 Hans. Vill you naut gome along out of dis ? 
 
 Ger. Why, 1 think you had better be off, for fear of 
 accidents; but I must stay here to watch these black- 
 guards. 
 
 Hans. But vaut zhall I do midout a kite ? 
 
 Ger. I have put the ould woman up to it, and she is 
 waitin' undher the window for you, and will lade you 
 over the bog to the house of a dacent man, a friend o' 
 mine, and he'll give you shelther, and I'll see you in the 
 mornin', 
 
 Hans. Goot vellow ! goot vellow ! Bote how zhall I 
 get out ] 
 
 Ger. Out of the window, to be sure, for them vagabones 
 is down stairs. 
 
 , Allans. [Looking down from window.] I zhall break my 
 negi 
 
 Ger. Well, it's betther brake your neck than have your 
 throat cut here I'll make an iligant laddher for you 
 [ Takes the blanket from the sheaf of straw that serves for a- 
 u bed, and tears it] here, tie this to your belt and here's 
 (i rope [ Unties his own rope girdle and joins it to blanket,} 
 --there's a nate bit o' carpenthers' work for you now, 
 
36 THE WHITE HORSE [ACT If. 
 
 get out o' the window, and I'll slip you down as aisy as 
 an oysther ! 
 . Hans. You are zure dere is no bitch-vorks ! 
 
 Ger. If there is you'll feel them tickle you, and then 
 whistle to me, and I'll pull you up \Hans gets out of 
 window, and, is supposed to fall. Gerald pulls in half the 
 broken line Hans roars.] Run for your life take care of 
 the dog! [Barking of dogs, squealing of 'pigs ', and the roar- 
 ing of Hans and Aggy outside, while Darby and Peasants 
 run up the staircase, with lighted torches, which they Jlare 
 out of the ivirtdow, while they shout after Hans. Ha, ha, 
 ha ! [Darby and Peasants laugh.} Well done, boys ! 
 He's well frightened. Now, Darby, give him a quarter 
 of an hour's law, and then keep up the hunt after him ; 
 Aggy will lead him round the bog to Ballygarth house, 
 where I will be ready to receive him, and by the time 
 he arrives there, if he's not tired of being an Irish land- 
 lord, I'll never brag of being an Irish guide. \Exif, L. u. E. 
 Dar. More luck to you, Masther Gerald ; I wondher 
 what hand he'll make of the furrine^ dragoon when he 
 gets him over into Ballygarth; but no fear of the mas- 
 ther, long life to him ; he's as brave as a lion, and as 'cute 
 as a fox, and has the courage and wit of the ould coun- 
 thry to hould his own yet ; so, never despair, boys. Phe- 
 lim, your sowl, give us the tune to it. 
 
 SONG. PH ELI M. 
 
 Oh, never despair, for our hopes oftentime, 
 Spring swiftly as flowers in a tropical clime, 
 Where the spot that was barren and scentless at night, 
 Is blooming and fragrant at morning's first light. 
 The mariner marks, when the tempest sings loud, 
 That the rainbow is brighter, the darker the cloud ! 
 Then up ! up ! never despairs 
 
 The leaves which the Sybil presented of old, 
 Though lessened in number were not worth less gold, 
 
 And though Fate steal our joys, do not think they're the best. 
 The few she has spared may be worth all the rest. 
 Good fortune oft comes in adversity's form, 
 And the rainbow is brightest when darkest the storm. 
 Then up ! up ! never despair. 
 
 And when all creation was sunk in the flood, 
 Sublime o'er the deluge the Patriarch stood, 
 Though destruction around him in thunder was hur/ed, 
 Undaunted he looked on the wreck of the world. 
 
SCENE IV.] 
 
 OF THE PEPPERS. 37 
 
 For high o'er tho ruin hung Hope's blessed form, 
 The rainbow beamed bright through the gloom of the storm 
 Then up ! up ! never despair. 
 
 [Scene closes. 
 
 SCENE IV. The Heath. Night. Thunder, wind, and 
 rain. 
 
 Enter AGATHA and HANS, R. 
 
 Hans. Donderskind ! vaught a night ! Dis old vrow 
 does not, I veer, know de vay ; I must ztay all night in 
 dis pog ! I shall die ! verachtig ! I vish I never gome to 
 dis gountry ! [Agatha sits down on a stone, and begins to 
 coug/t.\ Splut ! is she going to ztay here ] I zay, old vo- 
 mans, oh, 1 vorgot ! young vomans ! 
 
 Aga. Yes, yes, I know it is I know the place well : 
 it is Dead Man's Hole ! [Shouts outside. 
 
 Hans. Goot vomans ! meg haste ! 
 
 Aga. No, you're wrong. The body was found the next 
 morning. * 
 
 Hans. Zappermint ! his botty vas vound vill you get 
 up, my bretty young vomans ? 
 
 Aga. I will show the gibbet of three more that was 
 hanged, when we come to Gallows-green ! 
 
 Hans. Vaut a horrid gountry! vaut names! Dead 
 Man's Hole ! Gibbets vor dree, and Gallows-green ! 
 Mine dear vomans, vere is de ouse ve go to de ouse ! 
 
 Aga. Oh ! the house ! ah, it's not more than half-a- 
 mile ; there look ! 
 
 Ha?is. [Starting.] Vaut is it 1 
 
 Aga. Oh, don't be afraid ; you thought that was the 
 light which they say the murdered gauger goes about 
 with, looking for his head that was cut off. 
 
 Hans. \Aside.] De orrid old vrow ! she vill not get on ! 
 
 Aga. No : that light you see is in the house we are go- 
 ing to. 
 
 Hans. Dat loight is in de ouse ] [Shouts outside. 
 
 Aga. Yes. 
 
 Hans. Den, I vill ron vor it. [Exit, running, L. 
 
 Aga. Stay ! don't leave me to be murdered ! [ Throws 
 off her hood, and changes her voice.] Ha, ha, ha ! he's in a 
 precious fright ! he can't miss the light, and now I must 
 get in before him through the back avenue. 
 D 
 
38 THE WHITE HORSE [Acx II. 
 
 Enter DARBY and Peasants. 
 
 Dar. Hollo ! are you here, Aggy 1 
 
 Ago. Ha, ha ! don't you see 1 am. 
 
 Dar. And where is the furriner of a villain '*we are 
 huntin' ? 
 
 Aga. Oh, the poor devil ha, ha, ha! I've been telling 
 him such stories ! 
 
 Dar. But where is he 1 
 
 Aga. He ran away, and wouldn't wait for me when he 
 heard you close after him. 
 
 Dar. Then we must pursue him to the house. 
 
 Aga. Stop ! not too fast : he can't miss the house now, 
 for the light is ready burning in the window to lead him : 
 you'll only frighten him off the road if you run him too 
 hard ; but keep up the phillilew after him for the fun of 
 the thing. [Exeunt omnes, shouting " Follow ! follow !" 
 
 SCENE V. The Interior of Ballygarth, same as first scene, 
 first act. 
 
 Enter MAGDALENE and DILLON, L. 
 
 Dil. You are rather surprised to see me here ! 
 
 Mag. Dear Dillon, how kind to be the bearer of these 
 good tidings yourself. 
 
 Dil. I tell you, this English colonel interests himself 
 deeply in Gerald's welfare ; so let my friend be of good 
 cheer, and not take any desperate step ; for, though the 
 forfeiture of the estate be certain, 
 
 Mag. No matter ! Hard though it be to lose wealth, 
 what is that in comparison with life. My Gerald is safe, 
 you think ? 
 
 Dil. I hope so ; and I would not lose the pleasure of 
 being the bearer of the intelligence myself. You told 
 him this good news when you ran away from me just 
 now ] 
 
 Mag. Yes ; how could I keep it from him ] He will 
 be here in a moment, he has been changing his dress. 
 
 Enter GERALD in his former dress, L. 
 
 Ger. Welcome, Dillon ; good and kind friend that you 
 are : so, life is safe 1 
 
SCENE V.] 
 
 OF THE PEPPERS. 39 
 
 DiL I can scarcely doubt it, from the interest Colonel 
 Chesham takes in your favour. 
 
 Mag. And that is all I care for. 
 
 DiL But the property, my dear friend, I am sorry to 
 Bay, must change hands. 
 
 Ger. And I am happy to say, I hope it will. 
 
 DiL What mean you 1 
 
 Ger. Why, at present, whose property, by legal right, 
 is it! 
 
 DiL Why, truly, though you are here in possession, 
 the property is the right of Major Mansfeldt. 
 
 Ger. And thereupon, I say, I hope it will soon change 
 hands; and 1 have been employed all day in getting him 
 into a proper state of mind to that end : I have given him, 
 in the first place, a specimen of an Irish guide, that he 
 *will never desire to follow ; a short cut, that he will re- 
 member long. -I have shown him, that it is easier to have 
 a keep to a castle than a castle to keep ; that though it is 
 very well to have tenants at will, 'tis the devil to have 
 tenants against their will; that bogs are not suited to ca- 
 valry movements ; that murders are more plenty than 
 blackberries ; that manslaughter and arson are the com- 
 mon amusements of the people ; in short, that Ireland is 
 the finest country under the sun to live out of f and after 
 that, I think .he will be inclined to sell his property a bar- 
 gain. 
 
 DiL Well, I hope you can bring him to a sale. 
 
 Ger. Bring him ! why, I am driving him to market 
 this minute. My boys are hunting him here, even now ; 
 I expect him every moment. 
 
 Enter AGATHA, L. 
 
 Aga. Oh, I am half-dead, scampering over that bog. 
 He's coming, sir. 
 
 Ger. You frightened him well, I hope ? 
 
 Aga. I haven't spoken a word under manslaughter, for 
 the last half-hour. 
 
 Ger. Well done, Aggy ! [Loud knocking and shouts, L.] 
 Ho ! you are come, my boy ! now to frighten him a lit- 
 tle more. [Knocking. Gerald takes up a gun, throws up 
 the window, and fires.} Take that, you blackguards ! 
 
 Hans. [Outside.] Murter ! murter ? 
 
40 THE WHITE HORSE [Acr II 
 
 Gcr. Is it coming again you are, you villains, to break 
 open my house t Dennis, hillo ! bring me more blunder- 
 busses ! 
 
 Hans. [Outside.] No! no! don't zhoot me! I'm not a 
 ropper. 
 
 Ger. Hollo ! is that my Dutch friend ? 
 
 Hans. Ya ! ya ! open de toor, vor de loaf of 'eaven ! 
 
 [Shouts outside. 
 
 Ger. Oh, they are hunting you, I see. 
 
 Hans. Ya ! ya ! open de tore ! 
 
 Ger. Open the door ! 'tis more than our lives are worth; 
 but here, Dennis, bring the rope that we come up stairs 
 at night with. 
 
 Enter SERVANT with rope, which Gerald lowers from the 
 window. 
 
 Make yourself fast to that, and we'll drag you in. 
 
 [Shouts outside. 
 
 Hans. Make hase ! make hase ! 
 
 Ger. Come along, then. [Dillon, Gerald, and Servants 
 drag up Hans, through 'window : he is in a woeful plight ; 
 at that mo?nent a gun fired at him, and shouts.} I hope 1 
 didn't hurt you when I fired ] 
 
 Hans. Nien ! I'm so glad you did miss me. 
 
 Ger. I'll be glad to miss you every day in the year. 
 [Hans si?iks into a chair.} You seem a little tired ; here, 
 take a cup of wine. [Hans drinks.} But how did all this 
 happen ] 
 
 Hans. Vy, I gome down here vor mine esdate. 
 
 Ger. I congratulate you ; what's the name of it ? 
 
 Hans. Ballagarde. 
 
 Ger. We shall be neighbours, then ? 
 
 Hans. Nien ! nien ! I vould not ztop in dis gountry 
 not vor not in ! 
 
 Ger. Pooh! pooh! don't be prejudiced in a hurry; 
 that estate is a very nice bit o' bog to live upon. 
 
 Hans. If dey vould let you lif. 
 
 Ger. Why, there's something in that, certainly ; and 1 
 must own, that estate of yours has been rather unlucky 
 to the people who have held it ; the last owner but I 
 won't make you uneasy. 
 
 Hans. Oh, I know I know de bitchvorks 
 
SCIXK V.] OF TII K PEPPERS. 41 
 
 J Ger. Oh, you heard of it, then ? 
 
 Harts. Ya! 
 
 Ger. Well, perhaps you'll have more luck with the 
 property, and I'm sure I wish you life to enjoy it; and 
 don't despise it because it's a bog ; for you may reclaim 
 very good land out of bog, if you'll only sink a little pro 
 perty in it. 
 
 Hans. But I aff zurik mine broperty in it. 
 
 Ger. Well, you have lost no time. 
 
 Hans. But I have lost mine orse ! 
 
 Ger. Well, that's improving neither to the horse nor 
 the bog ; how deep was he when you left him ? 
 
 Hans. Up to de neg. 
 
 Ger. Faith, then, that horse is digging turf, by this time, 
 about twenty feet deep ! 
 
 Hans. And vaut am I to do ? I gannot get back mi- 
 dout an orse Donderskind ! but I vould gif mine es- 
 date vor noting more dan an orse, dis minute ! 
 
 Ger. A dragoon without a horse, is like a parson with- 
 out a church ; so, take a horse out of my stable, and send 
 him back when you get to Dublin. 
 
 Hans. Dank you ! dank you, my vriend ! but look, gif 
 me de voight orse you ride yesterday, and dere produ- 
 ces folded parchment, \ dere is de depenture of mine es- 
 date. 
 
 Dil. Do, Gerald, do I'll draw up an assignment. 
 
 [Takes tlie debenture, goes over to the table, and, writes. 
 , Ger. No, no my white horse, indeed ? you've a good 
 taste in horse-flesh, I see ! I wouldn't give my white 
 horse for three such estates ! 
 
 Hans. But it's a noice pit o' pog ! 
 
 Ger. Pooh ! 
 
 Hans. And a goot ouse ! 
 
 Ger. A ruin ! 
 
 - Hans. Only a little out of rebair ; and if you zink a 
 little broperty in de pog 
 
 Ger. I will never sink my horse in it, sir, as you did 
 yours : that white horse of mine, sir, can go ! 
 
 Hans. Veil, let him go vor de esdate ! 
 
 Ger. The finest charger in Ireland. 
 
 Hans. Veil, charge him on de esdate. 
 
 Ger, Come, you've said a smart thing, for once in your 
 
42 THE WHITE HORSE [ ArT H. 
 
 "life, and, for the sake of the joke, I have a mind to let 
 you have him. 
 
 Dil. Here is the assignment. . . 
 
 Hans. Goot, goot Den I vill put my zynment to**t. 
 
 Ger. I don't like parting with that horse, I can tell you. 
 
 [To Hans. 
 
 Hans. Ah, you have got von vine broperty vor him. 
 [Hans goes to table and writes Magdalene watches 
 him with interest hands pen to Gerald. 
 
 Ger. I don't like parting with that horse. 
 
 Hans. Gome! gome! [Pitts pen in his hand,] you zign, 
 you zign you bromise me de orse. 
 
 Ger. Well, I must not break my promise ; [Signs. \ 
 there, you have got the finest horse in Ireland ! 
 
 Hans. [Exulting.] Ha ! donder and blitzen, dat is goot ! 
 ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Ger. [Locks up the assignment and debenture in box.] Ha, 
 ha, ha! This it a funny affair altogether ! well, business 
 being over, we'll drink a cup of wine, and wish each 
 other good luck with our bargains. 
 
 Hans. Ya ! mid all my heart. [They Jill and drink.] I 
 vill be glad to get out of dis place, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Ger. Ha, ha ! Yes, and I'm glad to stay in it ; so we 
 are both pleased. [Knocking.] What, more visitors ! 
 [Goes to the window.] Who's there ? 
 
 Chesh. [Outside.] Colonel Chesham ! 
 
 Ger. Welcome, Colonel ; open the door, there, to the 
 Colonel. 
 
 Hans. You dell me you vas avraid to oben de tore. 
 
 Ger. Oh, the country is much more peaceable within 
 the last five minutes. 
 
 Enter COLONEL CHESHAM, L. 
 Welcome, Colonel ! 
 
 Enter AGATHA and PHELIM. 
 
 Chesh. 1 rejoice to see you, sir, and am glad to be the 
 bearer of good tidings ; [Hands a paper ,] here is a free 
 pardon for you. [Gerald hands paper to Magdalene, and 
 embraces her.] What ! you here, Major Mansfeldt 1 
 
 Hans. Ya ! dat is me Oh, I vas near gilt zince T zee 
 you, by dem rascal reppels ; but I vill go avay, now, mid 
 
SCENE VI.] OF THE PEPPERS 43 
 
 you, dat I have got von orse. [Aside.} I have done him 
 out of his voight orse ; ha, ha ! zuch a peauty ! 
 
 Ger. Thanks, Colonel, for your kind interference in 
 my favour. This precious bit of paper secures me life : 
 and Major Mansfeldt, I am happy to say, has behaved ve- 
 ry liberally, and sold me the property for a trifle. 
 
 Ches. Give me your hand, Mansfeldt ; I shall ever re- 
 spect you for this. \Shakes hands with Mansfeldt, then 
 turns to Pepper.} Strange chance, sir, that the men you 
 saved yesterday should have power to benefit you to-day. 
 T have interceded for your life ; the Major has restored 
 your property, and now, Master Pepper 
 
 Hans. Bepper ! vaut, are you Bepper ] 
 
 Ger. I'm only one of the Peppers ; for, you know [In 
 the manner of Rajferty}, there is White Pepper, Red Pep- 
 per, Whole Pepper, Ground Pepper, Pepper-Corn, and 
 Little Ginger. 
 
 Hans. Donderskind ! den dis is Ballagarde, I zuppose ? 
 
 Ger. It is Bally garth, sir, where I am happy to wel- 
 come you, once more, as the master. 
 
 Hans. Colonel, I am shated-; my depenture is roppet 
 out of me, and is in dat pox, dat small pox. 
 
 Ger. It is in the small pox, as you say, and, you know, 
 it is very hard to recover out of the small pox. Colonel, 
 in seeking by stratagem to recover what selfishness and 
 injustice would have robbed my children of, I trust you 
 do not blame me ? 
 
 Chesh. Far from it, sir ; where is that paper ] 
 
 Dil. [Hands it from box.} Here, Colonel. 
 
 Hans. Give it to me. 
 
 Chesh. No, sir, give it to me. As the representative 
 of their honours, the commissioners of the court of for- 
 feiture in this district, my signature is necessary ; the 
 Major and myself owe you something for the preserva- 
 tion of our lives. I am glad to see the major has not for- 
 gotten his share of the obligation ; for myself, F'feel great 
 pride in doing an act of justice to a generous man ; I 
 therefore ratify the contract with my signature; [Signs.] 
 there, sir. [Giving paper to Gerald. 
 
 Hans. Dey make a vool of me, Colonel ! 
 
 Aga. [As the old woman} The body was found the next 
 morning. 
 
 
44 THE WHITE HORSE OF THE PEPPERS. [ACT il 
 
 Hans. Oh, you are de d d old vrovv ! Dey zhow me 
 von empty ouse ! 
 
 Ger. By which I have verified the proverb, that an 
 empty house is better than a bad tenant ; but I hope, dear 
 Magdalene, our friends will not turn the proverb against 
 us ; for I trust we shall always have a full house at Bal 
 lygarth, and that the White Horse wilf be allow-ed to ruir 
 for many a day ! 
 
 DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE FALL- O 
 THE CURTAIN. 
 
 DJL. MAO. GEB. CHESH. HANS AGA. PHE. 
 a.] fi- 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 VOL. V. 
 
 VOL. ;x 
 
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 33. A New Way to Pay 
 
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 * i'usAo. 
 
 UIJ UebU. 
 
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 ?si Blue Devils, 
 
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 tf'ttA a Portrait and 
 
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 Memoir of MR*. SHAW. 
 
 %1e.-in.oir oj Mrs. A. U. 
 
 W uddiu^. 
 
 VOL. Xv 
 
 Jb a WATT. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 i. The Stranger. 
 10 GrandlalUer White- 
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 11. fticliurd III. 
 Love's Sacrifice, 
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 Wiik a Portrait and Me- 
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 VOL. VI. 
 
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 ;**|A a Portrait and 
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 | bURTOM. 
 
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 VOL. VIII. 
 
 
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