954 
 L9H 
 
 1637 
 
 UC-NRLF 
 
 B HE fl 12 
 
 uo 
 
 S 
 
RO RY O'MORE. 
 
 A COMIC DRAMA, 
 
 As performed at the 
 
 THEATRE ROYAL, A D E L P H I, 
 
 FOUNDED ON THE ROMANCE OF THAT TITLE. 
 
 By 
 
 SAMUEL 
 
 , ESQ. 
 
 MEMBER OF THE DRAMATIC AUTHORS* SOCIETY. 
 
 CORRECTLY PRINTED FROM THE PROMPTERS COPY, WITH REMARKS, 
 
 THE CAST OF CHARACTERS, COSTUME, SCENIC ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 SIDES OF ENTRANCE AND EXIT, AND RELATIVE POSITIONS 
 
 OF THE DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH AN ENGRAVING, BY 
 
 PIERCE EGAN THE YOUNGER, FROM A DRAWING TAKEN DURING THE 
 REPRESENTATION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHAPiMAN AND HAU* 186, STRAND. 
 
\VIUTING, READ FORT HOUSE, S'll'AND. 
 
FIRST PERFORMED, SEPTEMBER 29, 1837. 
 
 Mr. Power. 
 
 RORY. Gray frieze jacket, leather 
 breeches, or corduroy, blue stockings, and 
 shoes; hat, not too smart, with rather 
 broad and slouching brim . 
 
 DE LACY. In first scene. Full white 
 cravat, broad lapelled double-breasted 
 waistcoat, tight pantaloons, slippers, and 
 dressing-gown. In after scenes, a coat, Mr. Saville. 
 with a low, but broad collar, large lapelles, 
 and heavy skirt ; top-boots, hat with large 
 leaf 
 
 SCRUBBS. Cavalry helmet, and large 
 bearskin, blue cavalry coat, with heavy 
 skirts, and yellow facings, white leathers, ^ Mr. Wilkinson. 
 and large military boots, large sword, and 
 long spurs 
 
 DE WELSKIN. Glazed cocked-hat, light ] 
 blue half military jacket, with red facings, | 
 showy waistcoat, Normandy petticoat ^ Mr. Yates. 
 trousers, over red pantaloons, and top or | 
 hessian boots j 
 
 COLONEL THUNDER. Full suit of re- 
 gimentals (infantry). 
 
 SHAN DHU (Dark John.) A mixed cos- 
 tume, combining the Irish peasant and the Mr. 0. Smith, 
 smuggler 
 
 KATHLEEN. Red bodice and petticoat, 
 large gray cloak, blue stockings, shoes, and Miss Shaw, 
 buckles 
 
 MARY O'MoRE. Same style, in different 
 colours ...... 
 
 WIDOW. Black petticoat, brown bed- 
 gown, close white cap, fitting to the head, 
 without ribbon or border, spotted band- } Mrs. Johnson, 
 kerchief, crossed down her neck, blue 
 stockings, shoes, and buckles . 
 
 Time of representation, two hours. 
 
 Lit! 
 
 Mr. Catthie. 
 
 Miss A. Taylor. 
 
 582 
 
RORY O'MORE. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Interior of the WIDOW O'MoRE's cottage DE LACY in 
 a dressing-gown, seated beside a table with a bowl of soup before 
 him the WIDOW O'MoRE attending DE LACY finishes his re- 
 past, and lays down his spoon. 
 
 Wid. Maybe you'd have another little sup, sir ? 
 
 De L. No, thank you, Mrs.O'More even that little is much 
 for my weak appetite, as yet you forget, how ill I have been. 
 
 Wid. Ay, and you must forget it, too, sir. 
 
 De L. Never ! your kindness, and that of your daughter 
 have been more than a stranger like me could have expected -. 
 nav, more than I have ever experienced during my whole life. 
 
 Wid. Now, I must not listen to you any more, sir, and so 
 I'll just take away your bowl, and leave you to rest yourself. 
 
 [Takes bowl, and leaves apartment, R. H . 
 
 MARY enters, L. H. 
 
 De L. Where is your brother? 
 
 Mary. Gone to the village, sir. 
 
 De L. Will he soon return? 
 
 Mary. We expect him every minute, sir. I will send him to 
 you when he comes back, (gomg.) 
 
 De L. And am I to be left all alone, Mary? 
 
 Mary. Oh, sir, I'll come back by and by, and see if you want 
 for any thing. 
 
 De L. Pardon me, Mary, (takes her hand] but your own 
 goodness has spoilt me. I have been so used to see your kind 
 sweet face about me, while doing the heavenly offices of charity, 
 I miss it whenever it is absent. 
 
 Mary. You think too much of what we've done, sir. 
 
 De L. No, Mary ! heart could not be too grateful, nor tongue 
 too eloquent, in feeling and speaking all I owe you. Believe 
 me, I shall never forget it. 
 
 [R.ORY whistles outside the air of" Rory O'More." 
 
 Mary. Here's Rory returned. 
 Enter RORY O'MORE, through door and the WIDOW O'MoRE, R. H. 
 
 Rory. Well, sir, how is it with you now ? 
 
 De L. Better, thank you, Rory. 
 
 Rory. Musha long life to you ! Oh, you'll be as lively as a 
 
6 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 throut in a week more, though you wor nigh hand as dead as a 
 herrin' th' other day. 
 
 Wid. Fie on you, Rory, don't say such things to the 
 gentleman. 
 
 Rory. Arrah, what harm ? sure he's well enough now, and 
 divil a fear of him. 
 
 Wid. Go along with you, do. Did you remember to bring 
 me the things from the apothecary's ? 
 
 Rory. Yes here they are howld your apron 
 
 [The WIDOW holds up her apron to receive the articles 
 
 RORY takes from his pocket. 
 
 There's the chamomile that cost tuppince ; and there's the 
 rhubub, and that cost the same ; and there's the penny royal 
 wather and that cost thruppince 
 
 Wid. That's too much it should only cost a penny. 
 
 Rory. I suppose penny royal is worth more than a penny, or 
 there would be no use in its bein' penny royal. 
 
 Wid. But, sure, I only wanted 
 
 Rory. Now will you lave me alone. Here's the bark, and faix, 
 that's what took the shine off your shillin', bark that you 
 may get for nothing out of every dog's mouth ; when he towld 
 me I should give him a shillin' for a parcel of owld dust, that 
 looked just for all the world like the sweepings o' the flure 
 arrah, for what, says I what is it 1 Bark, says he. Bow wow, 
 says I. So I hope you're plased, ma'am, for the worth o' your 
 money ; and who do you think I met at the 'pottikery's? 
 
 Wid. Why, then, who ? 
 
 Rory. Scrubbs ; and, indeed, I wondher he isn't ashamed to 
 go to the place, for his father was a dacent 'pottekery before 
 him, but he must turn 'torney, bad luck to him, and instead of 
 doin' people good it's doing them all the harm he can the 
 skrewging thief, and he ought to be ashamed to look a gallipot 
 in the face, for it must remind him of his dacent father. See, 
 mother, (aside to WIDOW,) do you and Mary go and keep a 
 sharp look out on the road for him, for he was axing impidint 
 questions about some one being here, and all to that ; and I 
 would'nt wonder if he was to come pimpin' about the place, 
 and I don't want him to see Mr. De Lacy you understand. 
 
 Wid. We'll be on our guard. [Exit WIDOW and MARY, R. H. 
 
 De L. O'More, shut the door ; come close to me, I have a 
 question to ask you, and I charge you, as you are a man, to 
 answer me truly. I have been in a fever, and, of course, I have 
 been raving j now tell me honestly, did I let fall any words to 
 excite your suspicion ? 
 
 Rory. (smiling.) Faix, and you did, sir. 
 
 De L. I'm sure you guess what I am. 
 
 Rory. Shouldher arms, whoo ! 
 
 De L. You are right, I am a soldier and further you guess, 
 I am sure, not a soldier of King George's. 
 
 Rory. (with very arch expression, sings) 
 
 Viva la, the French is coming. 
 Viva la, our friends is thrue, 
 
RORY O'MORE. 7 
 
 Viva la, the French is coming, 
 What will the poor yeomen do. 
 
 De L. You are then a true son of Green Erin ! 
 
 Rory. (with emotion.) To the core of my heart ! 
 
 De L. Then my mind is at ease. You can fulfil a mission 
 that must, otherwise, have failed that is, if you'll under- 
 take it. 
 
 Rory. Undertake it ! I'd thravel to the four corners of the 
 earth in a good cause. 
 
 De L. 1 am bound by promise to be in the adjoining town 
 where an agent from France is waiting, who bears intelligence 
 to me. My weakened state forbids my going will you under- 
 take the mission 1 
 
 Rory. With all the veins o' my heart, and be proud into the 
 bargain ! 
 
 De L. Go, then, to the town, and in the market-place there 
 is a public-house 
 
 Rory. The Cat and Bagpipes I know it well, by rayson of 
 many a drhink I've had in it 
 
 De L. At the hour of six in the evening you will see a party 
 of three men contrive to say within their hearing, " one 
 two three." 
 
 Rory. That's one a piece for them. 
 
 De L. Upon which they will return your signal, and leave 
 the house, and you may follow wherever they lead. 
 
 Enter MARY, hastily, R. H. 
 
 Mary. Rory, Scrubbs is riding towards the house. 
 De L. This is the apothecary attorney of whom you spoke. 
 Rory. Yis, the big blaguard. Look at him, there, the dirty 
 bosthoom, bumpin along in his high saddle. 
 
 De L. (looking out.) Why this man is more like a soldier than 
 a lawyer. 
 
 Rory. Phoo sure, he's every thing 'torney and collector, 
 head guager, smuggler-hunter, and yeomanry captain. He's 
 all in one, as owld nick said to the hole in his hat. See, sir 
 just step into your own room if you plase, for I don't want the 
 pimpin' thief to see you at all, at all. 
 
 [Exit DE LACY, to apartment L. H. 
 
 Enter SCRUBBS through door. Enter WIDOW O'MoRE, R. H. 
 Scr. Good morrow, Widow, good morrow ! Glad to see you 
 well, ma'am and you, Mary O'More, well and hearty : all well, 
 I see glad of it ! was afraid some one was sick, saw Rory 
 getting some drugs at the village just dropt in as I was coming 
 by, to see if I could offer any advice Who's sick ? who's ill 
 who's 
 
 [The WIDOW and MARY bustle about the room during 
 SCRXJBB'S address, and take no notice of him, while 
 RORY seats himself on a low stool, and commences 
 dressing a blackthorn stick. SCRUBBS looks at them 
 inquiringly. 
 I say, who's sick ? 
 
8 RORY (/MORE. 
 
 Rary. (very briskly.) I am. 
 
 Scr. You, Rory you, my man you sick ! 
 
 Rory. Yes of tbroublesome company always. 
 
 Scr. Ha ! ha ! very good funny fellow always, Rory let 
 me feel your pulse, (attempts to lay hold of RORY'S wrist.) 
 
 Rory. Keep off; you'd betther leave my hand alone, for my 
 pulse has a way of bating mighty hard sometimes. 
 
 Scr. You know I'm skilful, Mrs. O'More, in the medical line, 
 and as there is some one sick here, I shall be most happy Mrs. 
 O'More most happy 
 
 Wid. "Tis only a traveller, sir, was suddenly taken ill in 
 passing this place, and so we took him in, and took care of him. 
 
 Scr. Is he poor ? 
 
 Rory. (reproachfully.) We never asked him that. 
 
 Scr. Of course of course ; but then you might guess. 
 
 Rory. Guess ! why then, tare an ouns, do yon think the man 
 is a riddle or a conundhrum, that we'd be guessing at him ? 
 
 Scr. (casting his eyes on De Lacy's valise.) This is the tra- 
 veller's portmanteau, I suppose, (takes it up and turns it over in 
 search of initials.) 
 
 Rory. It's not yours at any rate. 
 
 Scr. (aside, turning round the portmanteau.) Not a letter on it 
 provoking. No harm in my asking I hope. 
 
 Rory. Nor good either. 
 
 Scr. Only by this portmanteau, I see the traveller is a gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 Rory. Tare alive I never knew that before. So bekase he 
 has a portmantle you say he is a gentleman. 
 
 Scr. Certainly. 
 
 Rory. What a pity it is you hav'n't a portmantle. 
 
 Scr. What do you mean by that ? what do you mean, I say I 
 
 Rory. Oh, nothing, only I thought it might be convenient to 
 vou. (aside to MARY.) I say, Mary, run and takeoff his horse's 
 bridle, and cast him loose, and then he must go and hunt 
 for him ; and so we'll get rid of him. [Eorit MARY, through door f 
 
 Scr. You know his name, of course. 
 
 Rory. No ; we never ax'd him any impid'nt questions. 
 
 Scr. He's raving. Now all you have to do is to open his 
 valise, examine his papers, and find out who he is. I'll do it 
 for you if you like. (RoitY rises from his seat.) 
 
 Rory. Why then do you take me for Bitch a mane spirited 
 dog, that while a sick man was on his back, Pd turn spy and 
 thief, and break open his portmantle and hunt for his saycrets 
 
 Scr. My dear Rory ! 
 
 Rory. Don't dear me ! dear, indeed 'faith, its chape you howld 
 me, if you think I'd do sitch a dirty turn to bethray the man 
 under my roof ! you ought to be ashamed o' yourself. 
 
 Scr. My good fellow, it's a common practice. 
 
 Rory. A common thief's practice to brake locks and cut 
 open bags, and pimp and spy. Faugh! on the man would do 
 the like. If I thought there was one dhrop o' blood in my 
 body would consent to it, I'd open my veins, 'and bleed till it 
 was out. 
 
RORY O MORE. 
 
 MARY re-enters. 
 
 Mary. Look, look, Mr. Scrubbs there's your horse has got 
 his head out of the bridle, and is scampering wild over the 
 fields. 
 
 Scr. (looking out) . Hillo ! murder ! my new saddle, and the 
 vicious brute is rolling over in it stop ! stop ! (runs out.) 
 
 Ron/. Off you go, and bad luck go before you, for the dirty 
 dhrop is in you. There now mother, I'll be off too ; so when 
 I'm gone, bowlt the door afther me, and don't let that pimping 
 thief in any more. Good bye, mother good bye, Mary I'll be 
 wid you when I come back. 
 
 [During this last speech, RORY puts on his top coat, and 
 makes his exit. Music (Rory O'More). WIDOW and 
 MARY bolt the door and scene closes. 
 
 SCENE II. A meadow with some thorn trees hills in the distance. 
 Music (the symphony to the song in the following scene). Enter 
 KATHLEEN as the music ceases. She bears a milking-pail. 
 
 Kath. Well, my milking is done, and now to go home, and 
 then to put on my new gown and go to the dance ; for my aunt 
 promised to let me go. How good she is to me I wish her son 
 was deserving of such a mother ; but Shan Dhu is not what 
 he ought to be ; and ever since he spoke of love to me, I dread 
 him so. But why should I think of the dark cloud, when there 
 is so much sunshine round me I have more cause for smiles 
 than sighs; my aunt is kind, all my friends are kind Mary 
 
 O'More and Rory I'll wear the ribbon he gave roe at the 
 
 dance, to-night. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 There's a lad that 1 know, and I know that he, 
 
 Speaks softly to me, 
 
 The Cushlamachree ; 
 
 He's the pride of my heart, and he loves me well, 
 
 And who the lad is I'm not going to tell. 
 
 He whisper'd a question one day in my ear, 
 
 When he breathed it, oh, dear ! 
 
 How I trembled with fear ; 
 
 What the question he asked was, I need not confess, 
 
 But the answer I gave to the question was " yes." 
 
 His eyes they are bright, and they look'd so kind, 
 When I was inclin'd 
 To speak my mind ; 
 
 And his breath is so sweet, oh, the roses' is less, 
 And how I found it out why, I leave you to guess. 
 [During the singing of tie song RORY appears in the 
 background, and hides behind a thorn tree, watching 
 from thence KATHLEEN in evident admiration. 
 So now to go home and set my milk, and get ready for the 
 dance. 
 
 A 3 
 
10 KORY O'MORE. 
 
 [RoRY lias stolensoftly behind her, and, as she stoops to lift 
 the pail, he makes a sudden exclamation : 
 
 Rury. Wow ! 
 
 [KATHLEEN starts,witha slight exclamation, and turtissud- 
 denly round RORY kisses her. 
 
 Kath. (boxing his ears.) You impudent fellow how dare you 
 do that ? 
 
 Rory. I lave you to guess. 
 
 Kath. And so you've been listening too. 
 
 Rory. And looking too, jewel ; and faith I could hardly tell 
 which I'd rather be, blind or bothered ; for there was your 
 pretty little throat, so nice and round outside, and the song so 
 sweet coming out of the inside of it oh ! murther, it's too 
 much to have ears and eyes at wonst Kathleen, when one is 
 looking at and listening to you. 
 
 Kath. You are very impudent, so you are, Rory. 
 
 Rory. You've often told me that before. 
 
 Kath. It does not do you much good then you hear me, but 
 you don't heed me. 
 
 Rory. Why, if you go to that, how can I help myself ? sure 
 you might as well keep the ducks from the water, or the bees 
 from the flowers, as my heart from you, Kathleen. 
 
 Kath. Now, Rory, leave off. 
 
 Rory. By this light, Kathleen ! 
 
 Kath. Now don't be going on, Rory. 
 
 Rory. There's not a girl 
 
 Kath. Now don't be making a fool of yourself and me too, 
 Rory. 
 
 Rory. If makin' you my own would be to make a fool o' my- 
 self, thin it's a fool o' myself I'd be makin' myself, sure enough. 
 
 Kath. (rather sadly.) Rory, don't be talkin' this way to me 
 it is good for neither of us. 
 
 Rory. Kathleen, darling, what's the matter with you ? 
 
 [takes her hand. 
 
 Kath. Nothing nothing only it's foolishness. 
 
 Rory. Don't call honest love foolishness, Kathleen. Sure 
 our hearts would be of no use to us at all, if we were not fond 
 o' one another ; arrah ! what's the matter with you, my own 
 Kathleen ! [steals his hand round her waist. 
 
 Kath. I must go home, Rory let me go, Rory, dear ! 
 
 [strives to disengage his hand. 
 
 Rory. No, I won't let you go, ma vourneen ; now, or never, 
 I must have your answer. You are the girl that is, and ever 
 was the core o' my heart, and I'll never love another but your- 
 self, nor rest aisy till you're my wife. 
 
 [During this speech KATHLEEN exhibits much emotion, 
 and at the word " wife," throws herself on RORY'S 
 neck, and sobs bitterly. 
 
 Kathleen, darling! Kathleen, jewel! forgive me, my own 
 colleen, if I took you too sudden I'll say no more to you, now : 
 only give me your answer at your own good time. 
 
 Kath. (wiping the tears from her eyes.) No, Rory, dear ; you've 
 
O'MORE. 11 
 
 been plain with me, and I'll be plain with you as for myself 
 [She looks up to RORY, expressive of affection, which 
 she is ashamed to name. 
 
 Ron/, (with enthusiasm.) You love me, then ! you love me ! 
 
 [Clasps her to his heart. 
 
 Kath. Oh, Rory, but my cousin, Shan Dhu ! 
 
 Rory. Well, what of him ? 
 
 Kath. (mournfully.) Oh, you know you know. 
 
 Rory. You mane he wanted to be first lover, as well as first 
 cousin ; well, and what o' that : if you couldn't like him, is 
 that any reason you shouldn't like me ? 
 
 Kath. Oh, you don't know him : Shan is very dark. 
 
 Rory. Dark ! 
 
 Kath. Yes ; very dark. 
 
 Rory. By dad, I don't care if he was as dark as twelve 
 o'clock at night ; and why should you care, either, Kathleen 
 asthore, when there's your aunt to look to, and her word is worth- 
 more than his in the affair. 
 
 Kath. Oh, but she's afraid of Shan, too he's so very dark. 
 
 Rory. Why he must be the divil intirely if he's so black. 
 
 Kath. So, Rory, dear, we must keep our love secret for 
 awhile, 
 
 Rory. It's hard to hide what's in the heart, Kathleen ! for if 
 the tongue doesn't bethray you, its sure to peep out at the 
 eyes. 
 
 Kath. But we shan't meet often, and so there will be the less 
 danger o' that. 
 
 Rory. That's hard, too. But, Kathleen, though you don't 
 see me often, will you will you 
 
 [Hesitates, and looks tenderly on KATHLEEN. 
 
 Kath. You couldn't say the words, Rory. Will I be true to 
 you ? Oh, Rory, I have given you my heart, because I could 
 not help it, and I trust to you that you have given me yours. 
 Don't take it away from me ; I must hide my love for a time 
 I'll hide it as a miser would hide his gold ; and, oh, Kory ! 
 don't let me find the treasure gone when I may venture to 
 show it to the day. 
 
 Rory. Kathleen, darling ! while there is life in my heart, it 
 is you are the queen of it. 
 
 Kath. Go, now, go I would not have you seen for the 
 king's ransom. 
 
 Rory. May the heavens bless and keep you ! one more kiss, 
 my own, own girl (embraces her.) Farewell, core of my heart, 
 farewell ! [Exit RORY, KATHLEEN looks after him anxiously. 
 
 Kath. He's gone a little while past, and I was light of 
 spirit, and heart-free and now my heart is another's, and I 
 am sad? no! not sad but thoughtful. My ligbtheartedness 
 has passed away, even with the consciousness of a deeper plea- 
 sure, (takes up her pail.) Slowly shall I wend my way home. 
 How lightly I trod over the wild flowers when I left it. 
 
 [Exit KATHLEEN Tender music. 
 
 
12 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 SCENE III. A dark cellar in one corner a hammock is hang- 
 ing, a ship lantern, but without a light, is suspended from one of the 
 rafters, underneath which stand a rude table and seats coils of cable, 
 kegs, fyc., lying about, indicating the inmates to be smugglers SHAN 
 DHU discovered, seated on a chest. 
 
 Shan. When a man's alone and sober, what gloomy thoughts 
 come into his head ; in vain I strive to forget that girl's refusal 
 of me worse than refusal ; for she loves another, and that 
 other, the man of all I loathe, for often I find him cross my 
 path. If I hear it asked, "Who's the best wrestler 1'' the 
 answer is, " Rory O'More." "Who's the best hurler?" 
 " Rory O'More." "Who gets the prettiest girl for his partner 
 in the dance !" " Rory O'More'' and in a partner for life, he 
 despoils me too for deeply do I suspect that Kathleen loves 
 him ; if so I'll be revenged. Yes if I cannot requite my 
 love, I will my hate. 
 
 [A knocking at the door, SHAN DHU approaches it. 
 Who's there ? 
 
 Sol. (without.) One, two, three. 
 
 [Opens the door, and SOLOMON' enters. 
 
 Sol. Don't you know me? 
 
 Shan. What, you ! soldering Solomon ! what brings you 
 here? 
 
 Sol. Why a bit o' spec'lation wants more bakky ; though 
 tinkering's my trade, smuggling's my delight. Cheating is 
 always pleasant ; but of all cheating, give me cheating an 
 exciseman. 
 
 Shan. Or the d 1 in the dark. 
 
 Sol. 'Twould be in the dark here ; why don't you illuminate, 
 eh ? have you got saving of your oil ? 
 
 Shan. We have none until Pierre brings it back ; he is out 
 with Munseer De Welskin, and I expect them every minute, (a 
 knock.) Here they come, I suppose. Who's there ? 
 
 De W. (without.) Vaun, two, tree. 
 
 Shan, (opening door.) You were just in my mouth, Munseer. 
 
 De W. Beg your pardon I dis naut intent to go into your 
 mous. Coame down, coame down. Monsieur coame in tak 
 care of de step (leads in RORY, who is followed by PIERRE and 
 FLANNERTY) Pierre -fermez la porte. (to RORY.) Now, sare, I am 
 ver glad to see you. 
 
 Rory. May the saints spare you your eye-sight I wish I 
 could return the compliment. 
 
 De W. Whaat ! you no glaad to see me! 
 
 Rory. Faith, I'd be very glad to see you; but how can I see 
 you in the dark ? barrin I was a cat. 
 
 De W. Ha ! ha ! you fonee feylow ha ! ha ! like you for 
 dat bettere. Pierre mek hase wis a light. 
 
 [SHAN DHU, FLANNERTY, and PIERRE strike a light while 
 the dialogue proceeds. 
 
 De W. Sair, you air wailcome. 
 
 Rory. Thank you kindly give us your fist. 
 
HORY O'MORE. 13 
 
 De W. Vaut yi say ? 
 
 Rory. (aside.) How stupid them furriners is. I say, give us 
 your fist. 
 
 Pierre. He's bidding you shake hands with him. 
 
 De W. Oh! donnez moi la main. 
 
 Rory. (to Pierre). He says he doesn't know the man does 
 he mane me ! 
 
 De W. Bah ! shak hans wis me. 
 
 Rory. Oh ! you undherstand me at last there, (shakes hands.) 
 
 De W. You understan 'dat littel shak of de 'an don't you 1 
 
 Rory. All right munseer ! 
 
 [During the dialogue SHAN DHU ignites a match and 
 lights the lamp, Ronv and he mutually start, as the 
 light reveals them to each other. 
 
 Rory. (aside.) Shan Dhu ! 
 
 Shan, (aside.) He here ! curse him, he's always crossing 
 me. 
 
 Rory. (offering his hand to Shan.) Shan Dhu give us the 
 hand. 
 
 Shan, (reluctantly giving his hand.) There, (he permits Rory to 
 shake it.) 
 
 Rory. (aside.) By my conscience that shake was all o' one 
 side, like the handle of a pump, 
 
 De W. Now vee mus talk our littel affaire dis moment. 
 
 Pie. (to Rory.) I'll help to explain between you ; for De 
 Welskein does not speak the best English, and you, I suppose, 
 don't understand French. 
 
 Rory. To be sure I undherstand it didn't you hear me say 
 munseer ? 
 
 De W. Come sair, sect you down 
 
 [RoRY and DE WELSKEIN sit down to the table, which has 
 been furnished by SHAN DHU and SOLOMON from a 
 cupboard, with stone jars and glasses ; the other cha- 
 racters draw round the table also. 
 
 Here someting for you to dreenk not nastee, like pobeleek 
 ouse bote goot brandee ! ha ! ha ! goote, and nussing to pay. 
 
 Rory. By my conscience you'll get a grate dale of custom at 
 that rate. So here's your good health, Misther (aside to 
 PIERRE) what's his name 1 
 
 Pie. De Welskein. 
 
 Rory. Here's to your good health, Mr. Wilkinson. 
 
 De W. No, no das not my nem my nem De Welskein. 
 
 Rory. I heg your pardon, sir, but would you say that again 
 if you plase. 
 
 De W. De-vel-skein. 
 
 Rory. Oh ! Divilskin. Here's to your health, Misther Di- 
 vilskin. 
 
 De W. (produces a letter.) Here, sair, dis is for Monsieur De 
 Lacy dis is lettere from le General Hoche prenez garde 
 tak care of him ver mush sacre if you be kesh vid dis letteer 
 trom General Hoche in your poche 
 
14 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 J?on/. Wow ! wow ! say no more. 
 
 [Puts his thumb under his ear, as a sign of being hanged. 
 
 De W. You oonderstand den ? 
 
 Rory. Not a place in the world where they undherstand 
 hanging betther than in Ireland. 
 
 De W. Tek him den and tek care auf him. (gives the letter.) 
 
 Rory. And this is from General Hoche. Oh ! to think I'd 
 ever see the day I'd be the bearer of a letther from the great 
 General Hoche long life to him. (kisses the letter.) 
 
 De W. Sacre ! fine feylow ! you af de entousiasm 
 bon ! bon ! (slaps him on the shoulder.) 
 
 Rory. To be sure, I've bones but you needn't break them, 
 if its all one to you there, (puts the letter inside his vest.) That's 
 the place for it next my heart and tell me, munseer, will 
 the gineral soon be here ? 
 
 De W. Me fraid, no me fraid he die me 'tinks he got 
 vaut you call de gunstump in him. 
 
 Rory. Oh musha! think o' that and where is it in him, 
 sir? 
 
 De L. Inside, into his boddee. 
 
 Rory. Oh, my poor fellow ! what these sojers has to put up 
 with to have the stump of a gun stickin' in him ! 
 
 De W. No no de gun not stick in him it is de tickle-hine. 
 
 Rory. No wondher 'twould tickle him, faith 
 
 Pie. He says General Hoche is in a decline a consumption. 
 
 De W. Ah, me forges the terminaison de gunstumption 
 dat is it 
 
 Rory. Oh, then, if we had him here we'd cure him intirely. 
 
 De'Wel. Comment? 
 
 Rory. Oh ! common enough, indeed, in this counthy the 
 finest thing in the word for consumption is goat's milk made 
 into whay. 
 
 De W. Ah, yais ghost's milk ver goot ! 
 
 Rory. Goat's milk, munseer. 
 
 De L. Yais, yais! ghost's milk 
 
 Rory. Afther one is dead, maybe ghost's milk would be very 
 nice. 
 
 Knocking ; SHAN DHU opens the door, and a blind fiddler and 
 his wife, MRS. DOYLE, BIDDY CASEY, and NELLY RILEY, enter. 
 
 Shan. Welcome what kept you so late, Nelly ? 
 
 Nel. Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies. 
 
 Shan. Always saucy, you baggage, (chucks her under the 
 chin; and talks with her apart, the other women converse with the 
 rest.) 
 
 De W. (to RORY.) You see de leddees mek visile to me. 
 
 Rory. Yes, sir. (aside.) Ladies quare ladies, I think. 
 
 De W. Ah, Madame Doyle -glad to see you, madame- (to 
 RORY.) Dis is Madame Doyle. (MRS. DOYLE makes a grand 
 curtsey to RORY.) 
 
RORY O'MORE. 15 
 
 Mrs. D. Proud of your acquaintance, sir. 
 
 Rory. The same to you, ma'arn, and a great many of them. 
 
 Ket. (to SHAN.) What's the name of that sporting looking 
 fellow over there ? (pointing to RORY.) 
 Shan, (savagely.) You like him, do you ? 
 
 Nel. Yes, I do, if you go to that 
 
 Shan. Then go to him ! (turns on his heel.) 
 
 Nel. Never say it again ! (goes to KOHY.) Sarvant, sir fine 
 weather for dancing. 
 
 Rory. Yis, miss if it was a thrifle cooler. 
 
 Nel. I'd be sorry to have a coolness with you, sir. (eyes him 
 tenderly.) 
 
 De W. Leddees you vil have someting too dreenk vaut 
 you vill ave ? 
 
 Nel. Any thing, munseer, that's nice. 
 
 Rory. I suppose, my darlin', you wouldn't take any thing 
 sthronger than sperits for the world. 
 
 Nel. (shakes her head at him.) Oh, you rogue, (she turns to- 
 wards DE WELSKEIN, who is talking with the fiddler.) 
 
 Rory. This is a nice little family tay party that postman of 
 General Hoches is a quare chap I wouldn't be a money 
 letther in his way, for a thrifle and that innocent young 
 woman that was talking to me 1 wondher has her mother any 
 more like her 'twould be a nice family to marry into ; and the 
 kegs o* brandy lying about faith they want them, for they are 
 all mighty thirsty souls and the bundles o' rope well they 
 say give some people rope enough, and they'll hang themselves 
 'pon my conscience it is the ugliest kennel I ever was in, and 
 a mighty ill-looking set of dogs is in it. 
 
 De W. Come, sair, (to RORY,) feel your glass. 
 
 Rory. Faix, I feel it in my fist, Misther Divilskin and I'll 
 feel it in my head soon I'm afear'd I'll be mulvathered. 
 
 De W. But dis is for de leddees. Now, messieurs you all 
 fools. 
 
 Rory. All fools 'pon my soul, that's a compliment. 
 
 De W. No, no ; all FULL ! 
 
 Omnes. All ! all ! 
 
 De W. 1 give, sair, dis tost hells a piece to de leddees. 
 
 Rory. And a little one for yourself munseer. (they drink.) 
 
 De W. Now, Mister Fiddlehair you begin. Vive la Dance. 
 
 Rory. Faix Misther Divilskin, I must be goin' 
 
 De W. Not visous a dance, Mistair Rory von littel dance. 
 
 Nel. (dancing up to RORY.) I dance to you, sir 
 
 Rory. Your will is my pleasure, ma'am, (aside.) I wish I 
 was out o' this. Let me take off my coat, (lays down his coat 
 near the ladder.) What tune would you rather, miss ? 
 
 Nel. The Derrymagloughny jig. 
 
 Rory. Now, you blind ould thief, open your eyes, and pull it 
 out sthrong. 
 
 [RoRY and NELLY dance a jig ; while they dance the 
 rest of the party look on ; DE WELSKEIN seems to he- 
 come enthusiastic at sight of RORY'S activity, and takes 
 
16 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 out MRS. DOYLE to dunce ; SOLOMAN selects BIDDY 
 RILEY for a partner, and they all ultimately become 
 jumbled together ; RORY takes advantage of the con- 
 fusion, and disengaging himself from amongst them, 
 runs up the ladder, which he drags after him, and 
 escapes ; NELLY, when she misses himruns amongst the 
 dancers, and the party all exclaim, " He's gone he's 
 gone ;" they run to the door, and cannot follow for 
 want of the ladder. Scene closes. 
 
 SCENE IV. The outskirts of a country town night hail and 
 snow. 
 
 Enter RORY, L. H. 
 
 Rory. Ha ! ha ! ha ! how nately I gave them the slip what 
 will ould Devilskin do for his laddher I wondher while they 
 wor jigging away it was other steps I was taking, faith. Tare 
 an ouns, what a night it is ! hail and snow, and so late, too 
 and the martial law out and the sogers out too by dad if 
 they ketch me my bread's baked without an oven and the 
 devil of it is I must go into the town to get out of the town, 
 for its just right at th' other side of it my road lies whisht ! 
 what's that ! by the vartue o' my oath its the sojers I 
 hear their thramp. Bad luck to them, couldn't they go any 
 way but this. Whisht ! they're coming then I had betther 
 be going while my shoes is good for General Hoche's letther 
 would be far from a letther of recommendation to me. 
 
 [Exit, R. 
 
 Music ; the rogue's march ; enter SCRUBBS, L. carrying 
 an umbrella over his head, leading a party of yeomanry, 
 who march irregulary across the stage, with their heads 
 stuck, into the collars of their great coats, and trailing 
 their muskets. Exeunt, R. H. 
 
 SCENE V. A street night hail and snow at one side, a house 
 presenting two sides : a deep porch is before the door, from one of 
 the pillars hangs a large bellpull over the porch a practicable 
 window. 
 
 Enter RORY, hastily, R. H. 
 
 Rory. They're afther me still what'll I do if I meet some 
 more o' them this way. (crosses the stage.} Hillo, that's a fine 
 big door- way by dad, I was a bright hand when a boy at hide 
 and seek ; and I'll try if I can't play the game yet. (enters the 
 porch.) I wish this post was bigger, or my shoulders less ; I 
 might as well sthrive to hide behind a kitchen poker, (hides.) 
 
 Enter SCRUBBS, leading the yeomanry, carrying an umbrella over 
 his head. 
 
 Scr. Ton my life, this campaigning by night is very un- 
 pleasant business ; taking gentlemen out in such diabolical 
 weather, is more than most men's loyalty can stand very hard 
 
O'MORE. 17 
 
 on the yeomanry mounting guard is not proper yeomanry 
 practice review on a fine day all very well, but this sentry-box 
 business in the middle of the night is what I call non compos ; 
 my dear wife is at this moment lamenting my absence, sweet 
 soul ! I say you, Bill Jones, you must relieve guard its your 
 turn. 
 
 Bill, (tipsy a little.} It's a good joke to call it a relief I wish 
 I had more punch I know. 
 
 Scr. You've had punch enough, Bill, so be steady. 
 ML What a horrid night it is. 
 Scr. Never mind my lads, keep your powder dry. 
 Bill. You may as well leave us your umbrella. 
 Scr. Tut, tut, sir ; no mutiny, if you please ; none but 
 officers have any right to carry umbrellas ; come, steady ! 
 march ! round the corner. 
 
 [SCRUBBS and BILL march behind the house, the remainder 
 of the yeomanry stand before the door, with their heads 
 stuck down in the collars (f their coats, and stooping to 
 avoid the storm which continues to rage. 
 Rory. (peering.) I wish they'd lave that. 
 
 [SCRUBBS makes some mumbling mock-military excla- 
 mations at the corner of the house. 
 Rory. Are they talking of me I wondher .' 
 
 SCRUBBS returns with therelieved yeoman. 
 
 1st Yeo. I'm half dead there's no fun in this mounting 
 guard. 
 
 Scr. We have plenty of whiskey and hot water at the guard- 
 house ; so let us get back to it as soon as we can. Fall in there 
 right face. Oh, if my dear wife only knew what I suffer for 
 my country march ! 
 
 ^Exeunt SCRUBES and guard. 
 
 Rory. (peeping out.) There's one o' them chaps left behind 
 to take care I would'nt loose my way lavin' the place ; where 
 are they? round the corner, 1 suppose (looks round the corner 
 of the house. BILL JONES marches up and down, and grumbles. 
 RORY runs hastily inside the porch, and his hand touches the bell pull 
 the bell rings.) Tare an ouns, I've rung the bell ; bad luck to 
 it, I only just touched it. 
 
 [A window is raised above the porch, and COLONEL 
 
 THUNDER puts out his head. 
 Col. Who's there ? who's there ? Sentry ! sentry, I say ! 
 
 BILL JONES comes forward. 
 Bill. Who calls sentry? 
 Col. Your colonel, sir. Who rang the bell ? 
 BUI. I don't know, colonel. 
 Col. You've been asleep, sir 
 Bill. I wish I had. 
 Col. You're drunk, sir. 
 Bill. I wish I was. 
 Col. Somebody rang the bell, 
 
18 RORY O'MORE, 
 
 ^ Rory. 'Twas a mistake, colonel, dear. (Aside.) Oh ! murdher, 
 I'm ruined now. 
 
 Col. What do you say about a mistake? 
 Bill. I said no such thing. 
 
 [The door is opened behind RORY a figure in white 
 
 appears, and pulls RORY inside the dnor. 
 
 Col. Somebody did, then. See if there's any one hiding in 
 the porch. 
 
 [BILL JONES staggers over to the porch, as RORY slips 
 
 inside the door. 
 
 Bill. It's as empty as my last tumbler. 
 Cel. Push the door. 
 Bill, (pushes it.) All fast, (music.) 
 
 SCENE VI. A dark passage in COLONEL THUNDER'S house. 
 
 Enter RORY and BETTY, L. H. BETTY in a bed-gown leading 
 RORY. 
 
 Bet. Take care step softly don't make a noise hush. 
 Stay here a minute, I want to listen if the Colonel's bedroom 
 opens, I will be back with you soon. [Exit BETTY, R. H. 
 
 Rory. The colonel! so here I am in the colonel's house. 
 Rory, my boy, luck's on your side just to be let into the 
 colonel's house when you wor within au inch of being 'cotch 
 by the sogers, and put in the guard-house that's out o' the fire 
 into the frying pan ; now, who the dickins is this woman ? she 
 takes me for her sweetheart, or her husband,! suppose well, I 
 can be either she plases, and that's a comfort; if she finds me out, 
 she'll turn me out, so I must keep onknowns't to her as long as 
 I can. I'll purtend to have a cowld, and disguise my voice 
 here she comes. 
 
 Re-enter BETTY, B. H. 
 
 Bet. Hist! 
 
 Rory. What's that ? 
 
 Bet. Darby Darby 
 
 R<rry. (aside.) So, I'm Darby. 
 
 Bet. Darby. 
 
 Rory. Who's there? 
 
 Bet. Sure, it's your own Betty. 
 
 Rory. (aside.) Oh ! she's Betty well, darlin' 
 
 Bet. All quiet, so give me your hand. 
 
 Rory. W here are you 1 
 
 Bet. Here here give me your hand. 
 
 Rory. There, jewel. [BETTY takes his hand. 
 
 Bet. Now, don't make a noise, Darby, dear. 
 
 Rory. Not for the world, Betty, jewel. 
 
 Bei. Step softly. 
 
 Rory. Never fear ; did you ever see a cat steppin' over a pat 
 o' buther ? [Exeunt, R. H. 
 
 SCENE VII. A kitchen a window in the centre, with a 
 dresser before it, on which stand a dish of meat, a bottle of wine and 
 
RORY O'MORE. 19 
 
 glasses a coalhole on one side, and a bed on the other, both prac- 
 ticable a table and chairs are on the stage. 
 
 Enter Ronv and BETTY. 
 
 Bet. Now, darlin' we're safe ; I've locked the door, and we 
 may talk as much as we please. 
 
 Rory. (affecting hoarseness.) Iss, iss, darlin' ! 
 
 Bet. (setting the viands on the table.) I've kept something 
 here for your supper, Darby, dear ; sit down. 
 
 Rory. Iss, darlin iss. 
 
 Bet. Why your voice is altered, Darby, dear. 
 
 Rory. Iss, it's a cowld I got my voice is gone intirely. 
 
 Bet, Well, come and eat your supper, and 'twill do you good. 
 
 Rory. Tbrue for you, darlin. [Ronv sits at the table, and eats. 
 
 Bet. Maybe you'd like a candle, Darby. 
 
 Rory. Oh, not in the laste ; my eyes is tindher with the cowld, 
 and the dark is more plasin' to me. 
 
 Bet. And if we were discovered it would be the ruin of me ; 
 for Uie colonel says to me the other day, "Betty," says he 
 you've no followers;" " No, sir," says I. " I never allow my 
 servants to have their husbands coming here." 
 
 Rory. Oh, the savage ! sure, that's the laste comfort he might 
 lave honest people. 
 
 Bet. Yis, indeed, Darby, jewel ; and after all, there's no 
 harm in an honest woman having her husband coming to see 
 her. 
 
 Rory. Not the laste. 
 
 Bet. Not all as one as himself that going on with pretty 
 doings. Another man's wife, indeed! now, as for me, though 
 I'm poor, I'm honest, and it is my own husband I have, at all 
 events. Sure I could ruin the colonel if I liked if 1 only told 
 Mr. Scrubbs. 
 
 Rory. The collector is it? 
 
 Bet. Yes no less his purty madam, indeed, comes over 
 here on a visit, by the way, sometimes and I know what I 
 know. 
 
 Rory. T^rue for you dear ! 
 
 Bet. Sure I could ; Scrubbs himself is here with his yeomanry 
 now, and madam is gone back to her own house oh, the 
 jade! 
 
 Rory. So the colonel is a gay desaver, Betty. 
 
 Bet. Wicked you mane oh, Darby, Darby. I'd die before 
 I'd be false to my husband ! 
 
 Rory. To be sure you would my darlin. (drinks.') 
 
 Bet. You're not eating. Darby, dear. 
 
 Rory. No ; I'm drinking for variety. 
 
 Bet. Much good may it do you and tell me how is Johnny? 
 
 Rory. (aside.) Who the d 1 is Johnny, I wondher I suppose 
 her babby. (aloud.) Oh ! Johnny's very well. 
 
 Bet. Bless his heart, he's a fine craytbur how well he got 
 over it. 
 
 Rory. (aside.) I wondher what he got over, (aloud.) Yes, 
 
20 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 indeed, he got over it iligant; oh; he jumps like a young 
 cowlt. 
 
 Bet. Jumps! ah ! who ever heard of a child jumping over 
 the measles ? 
 
 Rory. Whisht ! didn't you hear a noise ? 
 
 Bet. No, not_a bit o' noise it's only the cat in the coal-hole. 
 [Uises and listens at the coal-hole 
 
 As you've done your supper, Darby, dear, you may as well 
 come to sleep. 
 
 Rory. (aside.') By dad, this is what you may call a delicate 
 situation. 
 
 Bet. Come to sleep, darling. 
 
 Rory. Whisht ! didn't you hear it again? 
 
 Bet. No, I didn't you can speak without being afraid, when 
 your head is under the blankr ts. 
 
 Rory. I can't bear my head undher the blankets. 
 
 Bet. Why, you used to like it. 
 
 Rory. (aside.) I see there's no getting over it T must tell 
 her who I am. Betty, I've a grate saycret for you a mighty 
 grate sacret. 
 
 Bet. What is it ? 
 
 Rory. Promise me you won't screech when I tell you. 
 
 Bet. Tell me ; will you ? 
 
 Rory. Take it aisy dear, for its mighty surprisin' you must 
 know then 
 
 Bet. What? 
 
 Rory. I'm not Darby. (BETTY gives a faint scream. RORY puts 
 his hand on her mouth.) Whisht, you fool whisht ! Have 
 some wit in your anger ; think o' your own charachther, Betty, 
 if you've no regard for mine. 
 
 Bet. Oh, my charachther ! my characther ! 
 (A knock at the door is heard.) 
 
 Col. H. (outside ) Betty Betty. 
 
 Bet. Oh, there's the colonel hide somewhere. 
 
 Rory. I'll get into the bed. 
 
 Bet. No, no not the bed. 
 
 Col. (knocking.) Betty let me in, I say. 
 
 Bet. Here's the coal-hole ; quick, quick. Coming, sir. 
 
 [RORY hides in the coal-vault, and BETTY opens the kitchen 
 door. The COLONEL enters half-dressed, with his night- 
 cap on, currying a bed-candle and drawn sword. 
 
 Col. Who have you in the house with you ? 
 
 Bet. Nobody, sir. 
 
 Col. I heard you talking. 
 
 Bet. I always talk in my sleep, sir. 
 
 Col. I must search the place, (goes to the coal-hole.') Come out 
 here, you robbers you midnight assassins 
 
 [Stands in an attitude of timid defence, with his sword 
 pointed towards the coal-hole. RORY throws his coat 
 over the COLONEL'S head ; the COLONEL falls, the 
 candle is extinguished. 
 
RORY O'MOUE. 21 
 
 Col. Murder ! thieves ! sentry ! sentry ! 
 
 Rory. Now is my time, (upsets the table, jumps on the dresser.} 
 [BETTY screams ; the drums beat to arms ; RORY jumps 
 out of the window into the arms of a SENTRY who ap- 
 pears outside ; his musket goes off. BETTY faints, and 
 curtain falls. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. A guard-room yeomen seated round a table, smoking 
 
 and laughing a lighted candle on the table RORY seuttd on a 
 
 low stool apart from them, L. H. 
 
 Eory. They're mighty merry over there, and that's more 
 than 1 am. Well, variety is charmin', as the owld song says. 
 Bad cess to the chance that put me in their way ; 'twas too hard 
 afther escapin' so long, to be nabbed at last ; well, that's all 
 luck, like the luck o' the starvin' calf, that lived all the winther, 
 and died in the summer. They can't do worse nor hang me, 
 any how, and that same's a comfort. Talking of hanging, 
 though, this letther of Giniral Hoche's is not the safest bosom 
 friend a man could have, (takes the letter from his bosom.) By 
 my sowl, if this was seen it's the dear postage I'd have to pay 
 for it ; faith, I'll disguise it I'll twist it up like a bit o' match 
 paper for lightin' my pipe, (folds the letter into a narrow slip), 
 and now, I'Jl put it beside my doodeen ; (takes of his hat, and 
 sticks the paper in the hatband, beside his pipe ; replaces his hat on 
 his head ;) there, now I'm like a great many people in this 
 world I've a power o' knowledge outside o' my head. 
 
 [Drum beats; the yeomen run from the table, and 
 tnke their arms. 
 
 Bill Jones. Ready, my lads ; here's the commanding officer 
 coming. 
 
 [The door opens, and soldiers and two prisoners enter, 
 one of whom is SOLDERING SOLOMON ; he and 
 RORY recognise each other. 
 
 Sol. (aside to ROUY.) You here ! 
 
 Rm-y. (aside to SOLOMON.) Whisht! I'm riot here at all 
 I'm purtending to be somebody else. 
 
 Sol. That's one of your Irish contrivances. 
 
 Rory. Yis ; it's what we call an alibi, (aside.) I wish this 
 owld vagabone wouldn't be talkin' to me. 
 
 Sal. But, 1 say 
 
 Rory. Don't throuble yourself to be saying any more, I'm 
 obliged to you, all the same ; but I'm no ways consaited, and 
 so you needn't purtend to know me. 
 
 Drum beats. Enter COLONEL THUNDER. 
 
 Hillo! there's my friend of last night; by dad, I'm meeting 
 all my owld acquaintances here. 
 
22 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 Col. (to BILL JONES) Let those prisoners be searched ; they 
 may have concealed arms or papers about them. 
 
 Rory. (aside.) Papers ! I have it ready just in time ! 
 
 [Takes his pipe from his pocket, and approaches the 
 
 table. BILL JONES is going to search Rory. 
 Rory. (addressing BILL JONES.) I beg your pardon, but would 
 you just let me light my pipe, if you plase. 
 
 [Takes the letter from his hat, puts it in the candle, 
 and lights his pipe with great composure, while 
 BILL JONES makes afruitless search in his pockets ; 
 he throws down the burnt paper, and treads on it. 
 Well, you didn't get much, I believe ; throth, it's very little I 
 ever have in my pocket. 
 
 [The Colonel sits at a table, with pen, ink, and paper. 
 Col. Where did you arrest this prisoner ? 
 Bill. In the street, your honour. 
 
 Col. (to RORY.) What account can you give of yourself? 
 Rory. (stands with his back to the COLONEL; speaks to BILL 
 JONES.) Don't you. hear his 1 onour speaking to you? 
 Col. No, sirrah ! 'tis to you I speak. 
 
 Rory. (turning round.) Oh ! 1 ax your honour's pardon. 
 Col. What account can you give of yourself, sir? 
 Rory. Why, thin, indeed, it's not much I do in the way of 
 accounts, your honour ; my little dalin' is roost in the ready- 
 money line, bekase no one will thrust me ; and it was in the 
 regard of doin* a thrifle o'business that I kem to the town yis- 
 therday, your honour it being market-day, and I had a slip of 
 a pig to sell and when I sowld the pig, which was not soon 
 indeed, for pigs was not lively yistberday. 
 
 Col. It is of yourself, and not of your pig, I want to know. 
 Rory. Sure, that's what I'm comin' to, your honour as I 
 was saying, afther the pig was sowld. I goes to a public-house, 
 and there I calld for something to dhrink ; and I dhrank it 
 and then afther that I was thinkin' 
 
 Col. I don't want to know your thoughts, sir; but how you 
 came into the street ? 
 
 Rory. Sure, that's what I'm comin' to, your honour as I 
 was sayin', I called for somethin' to dhrink. 
 Col. You told me of the drink, before. 
 Rory. Oh, that was another drhink, your honour 
 Col. Then you were drunk, 1 suppose. 
 Rory. Not all out, your honour, but spiflicated a thrifle. 
 Col. But how came you into the street at an unlawful hour ? 
 Rory. That's what I'm coming to, your honour as I was 
 saying, I got dhrowsy, and fell asleep till I was woke with a 
 ruction. 
 
 Col. What's that ? 
 Rory. A skrimmage, your honour. 
 Col. A fight you mean. 
 
 Rory. Yis, a little innocent sort of a fight, with sticks and 
 chairs, and the like; but I had nothin' to do with it, your 
 honour ; and so them that was in it, seein' T wasn't amusin' 
 
RORY O'MORE. 2f3 
 
 myself, got displased with rny company, and at last they gave 
 me a hint to lave the place. 
 
 Col. A hint what hint, pray? 
 
 Rory. They kicked me down stairs, your honour. 
 
 Col. You don't look like a fellow would take such a hint 
 quietly. 
 
 Rory. I'm obliged to your honour for your good opinion ; 
 and, indeed, I wouldn't, only in the regard of the weight o' the 
 dhrink an me at the time, and so many of them about me. 
 
 Col. I'll have the landlord of that public-house severely 
 punished, for keeping his house open at improper hours. 
 
 Rory. Indeed, 'twould sarve the blackguard right, your 
 honour divil mend him, and long life to you for punishin' 
 him, sir. 
 
 Col. Where was it ? 
 
 Rory. Sir? 
 
 Col. Where was it, I say 1 
 
 Rory. Where was it ? why then indeed that's what I can't 
 tell your honor, for 1 was so dhrunk at the time, that 
 
 Col. I see, sir ; you forget, I suppose. 
 
 Rory. That's just it, your honor. 
 
 Col. I'll see if we can't refresh your memory. Sergeant ! 
 
 (BILL JONES comes forward.) 
 
 take this fellow to the halberds give him a dozen, and he'll 
 remember fast enough. 
 
 Rory. (aside.} Bad luck to him, how ready he is with his 
 cat o' nine tales, (to COLONEL.) I'd be sorry to give you and 
 this gintleman so much throubie, sir ; and before you say any 
 more, if you'd ordher the room to be cleared; there's a saycret 
 I have to tell your honour in private, which your honour would 
 like to hear. 
 
 Scl. (aside.) Is he going to blab ? 
 
 Col. Whatever you have to say you may speak at once. 
 
 Rory. Indeed, if your honor b lieves me, it's something you 
 would not wish to be public ; something you'd like to know 
 yourself, sir. 
 
 Col. Clear the room then. 
 
 (Rop.Y and the COLONEL are left alone.) 
 Now what is this secret you have to communicate ? 
 
 Rory. Faix, Colonel, you were near ruinin' the thing alto- 
 gether. 
 
 Col. What do you mean, fellow. 
 
 Rory. Sure I come to tell you about the misthriss beyant. 
 
 Col. About what ? 
 
 Roi-y. Ah, you know yourself Colonel ; she's up to the eyes 
 in love with you. 
 
 Col. Who do you speak of, sirrah ? 
 
 Rory. The misthriss, sir. Misthriss Scrubbs, your honor. 
 
 [RoRY /i.res his eye keenly on the COLONEL, who winces 
 
 under his look. 
 Augh ! but you're a divil among the women, Colonel, dear. 
 
 Col. Fellow, how dare you 
 
24 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 Rory. Whisht, whisht ! they'll hear you outside. Mrs. 
 Scrubbs sent me over to tell you, that as owld Scrubbs is away 
 with his yeomen, may be you d come our way some evening, 
 just to take tay with her. 
 
 Col. (aside.) What an imprudent woman ! this ruffian has 
 me in his power. (To RORY.) Here, my honest fellow, here's 
 a guinea for you. 
 
 Rory. Faith, I don't desarve it. 
 
 Col. Tut ! tut ! you must take it ; and tell your mistress I 
 wish she would write another time. 
 
 Rory. Oh, then, do you think I'd tell on you? Not I, in 
 throth ! I wouldn't spoil sport for the world. 
 
 Col. Hush! 
 
 Rory. Mum ! I dare say she makes very nice tay ; do you 
 like it green or black, Colonel 1 And, as for the writin', Colo- 
 nel she would write, only she suspects them in the post-office. 
 
 Col. Indeed! 
 
 Rury. Yes ; they have a way of crumplin' up the letthers, 
 you see, this way, and lookin' through them, for all the world 
 like a spy-glass; and they might see " My darlin' Colonel," or 
 
 Col. Poo ! poo ! 
 
 Rory. Be aisy ; sure you're the divil among the girls, and no 
 wondher, an iligant gentleman like you would 
 
 Col. Enough, enough ! (goes to the door and opens it.) Enter ! 
 
 YEOMEN and PRISONERS enter as before. 
 
 Ccl. This man is free ; I am quite satisfied with the account 
 he gives of himself; and, as a reward for bis fidelity, lie shall 
 have a pass, (signs a pass at the table.) 
 
 Sol. (aside.) A pass ! then he is a traitor, and Munseer De 
 Welskin must hear of it. 
 
 Col (rising from table.) There! (gives a paper to RORY.) this 
 will bear you free from military arrest at all times. 
 
 Rorv. (to COLONEL.) Good bye, jour honor, and long life to 
 you ; and may you always have a good appetite for your tay. 
 Col. Clear the room turn out the guard. [Exit RORY. 
 
 [Roll of drum. Exit COLONEL. Stage is cleared, and 
 scene changes . 
 
 SCENE II. O'MOHK'S cottage, as before; a large meal- barrel 
 stands at the back of the stage. 
 
 Enter DE LACY in a dressing-gown. 
 
 De L. I am surprised O'More has not yet returned ; I hope 
 no disappointment has arisen in the communication from 
 France ; or, still worse, that no mishap has befallen Rory. 
 He's a fine fellow indeed, all the family are to be admired ; 
 his excellent mother, his pretty sister by the by, I must not 
 let myself grow weak on that subject ; she's a sweet creature, 
 and, were she of higher birth, 1 would not ask a fairer wife; 
 but De Lacy must not marry a peasant girl, and would not 
 betray one. So have a care, Mister De Lacy. 
 
RORY O'MORE. 25 
 
 (MARY O'MORE sings outside.) 
 
 Oh ! come to the west, love ; oh ! come there with me, 
 'T is a sweet land of verdure that springs from the sea. 
 De L. Those words are mine that she sings j how could sh 
 get them 1 
 
 MARY enters, R. H. ; starts, on seeing DE LACY. 
 
 Mary. I beg your pardon, sir; I did not think you were 
 here. 
 
 De L. And if you knew I were here, that is no reason why 
 you should not enter, Mary ; but perhaps you would not have 
 been singing so near me. 
 
 Mary, (aside.} He has heard me oh, sir ! 1 was only 
 
 De L. Singing a song of mine and I wonder how you got 
 the words. 
 
 Mary. They were written on a slip of paper, sir ; and folded 
 in the pages of the book you were so kind as to give me. 
 
 De L. But where got you the music ? 
 
 Mary. It is an air I have known from my childhood often 
 has my mother put me to sleep in her arms while singing it. 
 
 De L. Then sing it to me now, 
 
 Mary. Oh sir ! I should be ashamed I am so unused to sing 
 before any body. 
 
 De L. Take courage, Mary you have a willing audience. 
 
 Song. MARY. 
 
 THE LAND OF THE WEST.* 
 
 Oh ! come to the west, love; oh ! come there with me, 
 'Tis a sweet land of verdure that springs from the sea ; 
 Where fair plenty smiles from her emerald throne. 
 Oh ! come to the west, and I'll make thee my own ; 
 I'll guard thee, I'll tend thee, I'll love thee the best, 
 And you'll say there's no land like the land of th~e west. 
 
 The south has its roses, and bright skies of blue ; 
 
 But ours are more sweet with love's own changeful hue, 
 
 Half sunshine, half tears, like the girl I love best 
 
 Oh ! what is the south to the beautiful west ! 
 
 Then come there with me, and the rose on thy mouth, 
 
 Will be sweeter to me than the flow'rs of the south. 
 
 The north has its snovv-tow'rs of dazzling array, 
 
 All sparkling with gems in the ne'er setting day, 
 
 There the storm-king may dwell in the halls he loves best, 
 
 But the soft breathing zephyr he plays in the west ; 
 
 Then come to the west where no cold wind doth blow," 
 
 And thy neck will seem fairer to me than the snow. 
 
 * The first and last verses only are sung on the stage/ 
 
 
 
26 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 The sun in tbe gorgeous east chaseth the night, 
 When he riseth refreshed in his glory and might ; 
 But where doth he go when he seeks his sweet rest? 
 Oh ! doth he not haste to the beautiful west 1 
 Then come there with me, 'tis the land I love best, 
 'Tis the land of my sires ! 'tis my own darling west. 
 
 De L. Thanks, Mary, thanks. 
 
 (RoRY sings outside.) 
 Ha ! here's Rory returned. 
 
 Enter RORY at the door. 
 
 Rory. Good morrow, sir good morrow, Mary how's the 
 mother 1 
 
 Mary. All well, Rory. 
 
 Rory. That's right lave us alone, Mary dear ; I want to 
 spake a word to Misther De Lacy. [Exit MARV at the door. 
 
 De L. Well, Rory, have you got any news ? 
 
 Rory. Plenty, faith. 
 
 De L. What is it ? 
 
 Rory. Throth it's all ended in smoke. 
 
 De L. What ! no assistance ? 
 
 Rory. I didn't say that. 
 
 De L. But you said 'twas all ended in smoke. 
 
 Rory. And so it is, faith, as far as the news goes for it was 
 all in a letther, that I burned ; and so I think it's ended in smoke 
 afther that. 
 
 De L. Burned the letter ! 
 
 Rory. Yis ; only I burned it, the whole thing would ha' been 
 blown. 
 
 De L. How do you mean blown 1 
 
 Rory. Why, I mane blown ; don't you know what blown is ? 
 when any thing is done intirely. 
 
 De L. Discovered, you mean. 
 
 Rory. You may say, diskivered, if you plase ; but we say 
 blown ; sure how do you diskiver a rose but by its bein' blown ; 
 or how do you find out a tune on the jarman flute but by its 
 being blown and 
 
 De L. Well, Rory, you've given examples enough but 
 about this letter. How could you burn it ? 
 
 Rory. Very aisy, faith I just held it over the candle. 
 
 De L. (rather angry.) O'More, this is trifling. 
 
 Rory. Thrifling is it? faith if you were there yourself 
 Misther De Lacy, you would say 'twas no thrifle to be cotch 
 by the sojers, and put in the guard-house. 
 
 De L. What ! taken by the military? 
 
 Rory. Yis they've mighty takin' ways with them. 
 
 De L. Then you burnt the letter to prevent discovery 
 O'More, pardon my haste you're a glorious fellow ! I'll 
 never forget it: 
 
 Rory. Nor I either, faith ! 
 
 De L. Were you long under arrest ? 
 
RORY O'MOEE. 27 
 
 Rory. Devil a rest I had at all but it's a long story, and the 
 ind of it is, I kept the letther as long as I could and when I 
 could keep it no longer with safety, I burned it that's what 
 good sojers calls resarving their fire and then what do you 
 think, but an old flustherin' fool of a colonel was so bam- 
 boozled by a little bit of a story I invinted, that he gave me a 
 pass, {produces it.) 
 
 De L. Why, Rory, you're a prodigiously clever fellow. 
 
 Rory. Not at all it wasn't I was clever 'twas only the 
 colonel was a fool, {shows the pass,) Look at it there it is with 
 a big sale at one ind, and his superscription at the other. Faix, 
 that's the thing, if the sojers ever stops one, that will pay the 
 turnpike read it. {reads.) " Give the bearer purtection at all 
 times apperceeand apperceeand apperceeand." 
 
 De L. Et cetera, you mean. 
 
 Rory. Oh, it's all the same in Irish. Come into your own 
 room. here, sir, and I'll tell you more about it^ 
 
 [RORY and DE LACY retire to DE LACK'S apartment. 
 Enter DE WELSKEIN and MARY O'MoRE ; DE WELSKEIN speaks 
 outside, previously to his entrance. 
 
 Mary. What's your pleasure, sir ? 
 
 De W. My plaisure alvais is to look 'pon so sharming preety 
 demoiselle as von leetel lady Avis blue eyes as I see before me. 
 
 Mary. Your business, sir 1 
 
 De W. My hastiness ! my hastiness, mademoiselle, is not 
 hastiness at all ; is ees a profession I am capitaine soche a 
 beautiful ship as mine vous you like to tek a leetle voyage 
 wis me 1 
 
 Mary, {aside.) What an odd man ! 
 
 De W. You shoos be queen of my leetel sheep, {puts his arms 
 round MARY'S waist.) 
 
 Mary. I don't understand such liberties, sir. 
 
 De W. Poor ignorant peeple, dey do not oonderstan' liberte ! 
 my dear^if you come wis me to La belle France, I will taish you 
 libert^. Ah ! if you see my beautiful contrey I link I see it 
 now. {shuts his eyes, and stretches forth his hands with enthusiasm ; 
 MARY retires n. IK). Sush beautiful wine ! sush beautiful brandee! 
 sush beautiful revolusion ! sush beautiful everyting ! hot 
 nussing so beautiful as you, my dear, {looks round.) Sacre ! she 
 gone away ; ah, leetel rog ! vairy pret shoos like her for my 
 leetel sheep ver moche. No wonder Monsieur De Lacy like to 
 leeve in dis leetel cottage wis such sharming compagnie. 
 
 Enter DE LACY and RoRY/rom apartment. 
 Bon jour, citoyen capitaine 
 
 De L. De Welskein ! 
 
 De W. Oui, monsieur, and you, sair, {to RORY.) what for 
 you run away from me de usser night ? 
 
 Rory. Did you ever see a pig runnin' very fast? 
 
 De W. Peeglcochonl 
 
 Rffry. No, not in a coach, at all, but on his own two legs. 
 
 De W. Peeg, sair, has four legs. 
 B 2 
 
28 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 Rory. Yis, and hind legs, too ; well, did you ever see him 
 runnin', Mr. Divilskin 1 
 
 De W. Yais, sair. 
 
 Ron/. And do you know the raison he runs 1 
 
 De W. No, sair. 
 
 Rory. Well, then, I'll tell you; and it's the same raison I 
 run from you th 'other night and remember it now, for it's 
 worth remembrin'. Whenever you see a pig runnin' very fast, 
 the raison is, that he's in a hurry. 
 
 [Exit RORY through door ; DE WELSKEIN goes to the door, 
 and looks through the keyhole. 
 
 De L. Why all this caution 1 
 
 De W. (puts his finger to his lip in token of silence, and gets close 
 t<> DE LACY.) Dere is a great rascal very near you ! Rory 
 O'More is a traitor ! 
 
 Re- enter RORY hastily. 
 
 Rory. (to DE WELSKEIN.) That's the last lie you towld. 
 
 DeW. Sacre"! 
 
 Rory. Ah, howld your prate, you dirty furriner. Misther 
 De Lacy, here is Scrubbs and his yeomen all powdherin' down 
 the road, and if owld Divilskin is seen we're lost. 
 
 Enter MARY, hastily, R. H. 
 
 Mary. Oh, sir, the soldiers are all surrounding the house. 
 
 De W. We are betray he sent for de sojere. (points to 
 RORY.) 
 
 JRory. (to DE LACY.) Make that fool hide himself, or we're 
 ruined here, let him get into the male-tub, (uncovers the 
 barrel.) 
 
 De W. No, no, you wans to kesh me in a trap. 
 
 De L. Quick hide yourself. 
 
 De W. (to MARY.) My dear, coos you not pool me undere 
 your bede. 
 
 Rory. Get in there, you owld thief. 
 
 [Dfi LACY and RoRY^/bree him to hide. 
 
 De W. (getting into the tub.) Sacre ! I do not like him. 
 
 [He is concealed, and RORY sits on the barrel. 
 
 Enter SCRUBBS and two armed yeomen. 
 
 Scr. You, outside, there, keep watch ! don't let any one 
 escape ! see that nothing gets out of the chimney. 
 Rory. Except the smoke. 
 
 Scr. Silence, fellow. Treason is abroad ! villany is abroad ! 
 and now, sir, (to DE LACY,) who are youl 
 
 De L. What I am inclined to think you are not, sir. 
 Scr. A French rebel, you mean. 
 De L. No, sir ; an Irish gentleman. 
 
 [During this dialogueRoRY has taken DE LACY'S 
 coat, which hangs on the back of a chair, and puts 
 the pass into the pocket. 
 Rory. (approaching DE LACY.) Mr. De Lacy, you'd betther 
 
RORY O'MORE. 29 
 
 put on your coat, sir, or you'll get cowld. (aside to DE LACY.) 
 The colonel's pass is in the pocket. 
 
 [Dfi LACY takes off" his dressing gown, and is as- 
 sisted by RORY to put on the coat. RORY then 
 retires to DE LACY'S room. 
 
 De L. Will you excuse me while I change my dress ? 
 
 Scr. Well 'pori my honour, this is what I call taking it easy, 
 change his dress! I'll make him change his tone, I think. 
 Do you know who I am, sir? I'm a magistrate, sir ; and I 
 arrest you in the king's name, (advancing.) 
 
 De L. (presenting a case of pistols ivhich he has taken from his 
 pocket.) Come on, sir. 
 
 Sc. (retreating behind the yeomen.) Don't dare to present a 
 pistol at a magistrate, (to yeomen.) Advance and seize him ! 
 
 De L. (hands him the pass, yeomen hang back.) Jf you can 
 read, sir, look at that. 
 
 Scr. (taking the letter at the sword's point.) Bless my soul ! a 
 pass from Colonel Thunder, (to DE LACY.) My dear friend, 
 this is, indeed, a surprise ; I beg a thousand pardons all done 
 in a mistake : but in these times, you know, my dear friend, 
 magistrates must be vigilant. 
 
 De L. And be careful of their personal safety. 
 
 Scr. Certainly, as you most judiciously remark, (to yeomen.) 
 Quit this worthy gentleman's house directly, (yeomen linger.) 
 Allow me, sir, to assure you of my eternal friendship. 
 
 De L. Sir, I scorn alike your friendship and 
 
 Scr. Ah hem ! (to yeomen.) Why don't you go ? 
 
 [Exeunt yeomen' 
 You were saying something about friendship, sir. 
 
 De L. I say, sir, I scorn alike your friendship and your 
 hostility. 
 
 Scr. I must say, my dear friend, I think that rayther hard. 
 
 De L. If you do not relish what I say, sir, here are pistols, 
 and there's fair ground in the field behind the house, (offers 
 pistols.) 
 
 Scr. By no means, my dear friend. Do you think I'd shoot 
 a friend of Colonel Thunder's? oh, dear ! you mistake me 
 I'm not a bloodthirsty person merely jocular, as I say 
 jocose and, now that I find you are what you ought to be, 
 I'll have great pleasure in staying and having a drop o' some- 
 thing with you. 
 
 De L. (presenting a pistol.) Go, sir ! 
 
 Scr. Eh ! 
 
 De L. Go, sir ! 
 
 Scr. Oh ! (letreating to door.) 
 
 De L. Go, sir ! 
 
 Scr. Good morning ! [Exit. 
 
 De L. I'll see him safe into his saddle. [Eait. 
 
 [DE WELSKEIN rises from the barrel, turns round, 
 
 and exhibits his face and dress smeared with flour. 
 
 De W. Sacral I am smuzzere! (gets out of the barrel, and 
 replaces the lid.) Ha ! phew ! what cowheart is dat gentleman 
 
30 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 sojere. Big feddere little courage. Monsieur De Lacy brave 
 garfon ! Go, sair! (mimics.) hah! Go, sair! ho! Sucre I 
 quel poltron. I like to see de man vouds do dat to me ! by gar, 
 I would pull his nose. I vondre vere is dat lissel girl : she go 
 dis way, me tinks ; I will go dare too hide myself in de rideau 
 of her curtain bed. B v gar, me aff very mosche audace ven a 
 lady in de case. [Exit, R. H. 
 
 Re-enter RoRY/rom DE LACY'S room. 
 
 Rory. Ha ! ha ! ha ! By the powers Mr. De Lacy done that 
 iligantly. Oh how politely he landed owld Scrubbs out o' the 
 place the cowardly thief o' the world ! I suppose poor Divilskin 
 is nigh hand smothered by this time, I must let him out. (knocks 
 on the lid of the barrel.) Divilskin, come out ; (lifts the lid, and 
 looks in ;) by dad, he is out. Where is he gone ? he did not go 
 out, or I'd ha' seen him out of the window of Mr. De Lacy's 
 room ; and he didn't come in there, sartinly ; and there's no 
 other place for him to go to, barrin' he'd go into Mary's sleep- 
 in'-room, and he wouldn't have the impidance to do that, I 
 suppose though 'pon my conscience I don't think that fellow's 
 modesty would shut any door agin him. (takes up a three-legged 
 stool.) I'll go look for him there, and if he has had the as- 
 surance to go into Molshee's sleepin' room, I'll comb his head 
 with this stool. (Eiit, R. H. ; a thumping and roaring is heard 
 within.) Come out, you thief, come out o' that. 
 Re-enter DE WELSKEIN and RORY. 
 
 De W. What de devil, saire, you do dat for ? 
 
 Rory. I was only dustin' the flies off the curtain, munseer. 
 
 De W. Sacre ; but why for you brek my back ? you cannot 
 mend him for me. 
 
 Rory. Mend your own back, and I'll mend your manners. 
 I'll be bound you'll not play hide and go seek in the bed-cur- 
 tains again eh ! Divilskin ? 
 
 De W. Ha! you dam fellowe, you hit my head pretty joke. 
 
 Rory. That's what we call cracking a joke, in Ireland. See 
 Divilskin ; listen to me 
 
 De W. Well, sair. 
 
 Rory. I towld you why a pig runs fast, and I showed you 
 how we dust bed-curtains, and now I'll show you the door. 
 
 De W. I know ver well, sair, what is de door. 
 
 Rory. Yes ; but you don't seem to know the use of it. You 
 see in Ireland the use of a door is to put a blackguard at th' 
 other side of it so get out. 
 
 De W. What, sair J 
 
 Rory. Be off cut your stick ! 
 
 De W. No, sair ! what you mean, sair ? you not dare to 
 turn me out, sair ! 
 
 Rory. Faith, I'll turn you inside out, if you're not out o' 
 this in one minit. 
 
 De W. I will not, sair ! 
 
 Rory. (holding out his arm in a menacing attitude.) Look at 
 that, Divilskin I'm getting mighty ticklish about the elbow. 
 
RORY O'MORE. 31 
 
 De W. Oh ! good morning sair. (going.) 
 Rory. Get out, you impidint thief ! 
 
 [RoRY kicks him out j scene doses. 
 
 SCENE III. A view of wild hills j a richly -clouded sunset. 
 Enter KATHLEEN, R. H. 
 
 Kath. How beautifully the sun is setting ; the clouds are 
 piled up, like palaces of fairy land, and the golden beams come 
 shooting out through the bright chinks, as if the halls were 
 illuminated for merry-making ; but it is the king of the storm 
 will hold his feast amongst them, for that bright sunset looks 
 troubled. Yes ; all those bright and glowing clouds will soon 
 be scattered by the storm ! I know not why, but that sunset 
 makes me sad. 
 
 Enter SHAN DHU, L. H. at the back who advances and taps 
 KATHLEEN on the shoulder. 
 
 Shan. Where are you going, Kathleen 1 
 
 Kath. Home, (aside.) His presence at this moment chills me. 
 
 Shan. Why do you seem as if you feared me ? 
 
 Kath. Fear ? Do not think I fear you. 
 
 Shan. You shun me ; and that looks like fear. 
 
 Kath. Nay, it is you who shun our meeting. I live in your 
 mother's house, Shan, and if you did not shun your mother's 
 house, we should meet oftener. 
 
 Shan. If I do shun my mother's house, it is for the sake of 
 the cruel girl that will not make it a happy home to me. 
 
 Kath. No, no, Shan, there are other causes ; there's a wild 
 glen in the hills yonder ; there's an old ruin of no good repute 
 in that wild glen ; and they say that some, wilder than the glen 
 itself, make it their haunt. You know the place I mean. 
 
 Shan. And if I know it, it is that the wild glen is made more 
 welcome to me than the thatched roof. Your love would make 
 the thatched roof pleasanter than the wild glen. 
 
 Kath. You deceive yourself. Shan, you have never been to 
 the mother who nursed you, what a son should be ; and from 
 such, the wife can have no hope the son is the forerunner of 
 the husband. 
 
 Shan. You would not speak so, if you did not love another. 
 I know it. You love Rory O'More do not attempt to deny it. 
 Ah, Kathleen ! you knew me longer than him ; from childhood 
 you have known me ; and yet to him, the acquaintance of later 
 years, you have given your love. 
 
 Kath. Talk not of your boyhood ! even as a child I did not 
 love you ; do you remember the day I prayed you not to rob 
 the poor bird's nest, and you laughed at me and called me a 
 fool, and did it ? From that hour,, Shan, our hearts were 
 separate. There's an old saying, Shan : 
 
 The feather shows how the wind blows ; ^ 
 The straw tells how the stream flows. 
 Good bye, Shan I am going home. 
 
32 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 Shan, (detaining her.) Kathleen, this is the last time I shall 
 ever ask you ; beware how you refuse me beware how you 
 turn love into hate. 
 
 Kuth. Shan Dhu ! Shan Dhu! The man who truly loves 
 could never in the same breath speak of hate farewell. 
 
 Shan. Go not yet ! Even though you reject me, I have love 
 enough left to preserve you from a deceiver. 
 
 Kath. What mean you ? 
 
 Shan. Rory O'More has already betrayed one woman, and 
 may deceive you. 
 
 Kath. 'Tis false ! I know 'tis false. 
 
 Shan. If you will not believe me will you not believe his 
 victim ? I have a witness of his falsehood. 
 
 Kath. I have a stronger witness to his truth. 
 
 Shan. Where? 
 
 Kath. Here, in my heart 
 
 (The sound of a distant bell is heard ; SHAN DHU starts.) 
 Hark to the chapel bell does it not whisper to your con- 
 science, Shan ? 'tis long since you have heard the holy sound 
 beneath the holy roof. (SHAN lays hold of her arm.) Let me pass. 
 (SHAN interrupts her no longer.] I go to vespers. 
 
 [Exit KATHLEEN, R. H. 
 
 Shan. The sound of that bell, and her parting words have 
 made a coward of me a creeping chill comes over me I am 
 a man no more, but tremble like a child ah, when I was a child 
 I knelt at prayer, and 
 
 (The bell sounds again.) 
 
 It calls again ! yes, I will goto chapel, (going, R.H. ; DE WEL- 
 SKF.IN enters suddenly, L. H.) 
 
 De W. Me links you said sbappell. 
 
 Shan. Well and suppose I did many a good man goes to 
 chapel. 
 
 De W. So you vaunts to be a goot man ah, mon ami, you 
 af been a long time about eet besser let im alone now lissel 
 girl vas here mek you art soft 'ead grows soft wid de art 
 but de art grows strong vid de bran dee come wis me come 
 to de Follee I will be your frend, and Mistair Rory moste 
 not mary your lissel girl 
 
 Shan. Ha ! marry ! 
 
 De W. You link not me know ha ! ha ! come wis me 
 ve vill settel all about eet; you muss run avay vid dat leetel 
 girl I vill run avay vis anozer you loaf Mistair Rory's 
 maitresse I loaf Mistair Rory's sistair ve run away vis boas 
 dat vill be von goot revensh. 
 
 Shan. Revenge ! yes revenge is sweet. 
 
 De W. Sairtanlie and it ees vairy, yairy sweet indeet, ven 
 you mix him wis a leetel brandee come along vis me. 
 
 [Exeunt, L. H. 
 
RORY O'MORE. 33 
 
 SCENE IV. A pass leading into a glen night wind and rain. 
 Enter SCRUBBS, R. H. 
 
 Scr. Bless my soul, what a storm ! How it rains how it 
 whistles ! zounds, what a misfortune to lose my horse at such 
 a moment ! poor devil's killed I suppose well I wasn't killed 
 too but what am I to do ? five miles from home in this wild 
 country, and to walk it too. If I meet any of these lawless 
 ruffians I am a gone man. (a shmit outside.) Bless me! some 
 one is near what am I to do 1 (hides.) 
 
 RORY enters, L. H. carrying a crowbar. 
 
 Rory. Ton my conscience, this is a nice night for young 
 ducks, tare an ounty how its powerin' rain ! (thunder and 
 lightning.) Phew ! there's more of it. 
 
 Scr. (comingforward.) Why Rory, my dear friend, this is so 
 fortunate ! 
 
 Rory. Is it fortunate to be cotch in a storm ? 
 
 Scr. No ; but to meet a friend under such circumstances I 
 have lost my horse I have lost my way I have lost my 
 courage. 
 
 Rory. Well, nobody will break their shins over that. 
 
 Scr. Rory, my man, you must let me go along with you 
 you will guide me you will take care of me which way are 
 you going '{ 
 
 Rory. Home, through the glen. 
 
 Scr. The glen ! you wouldn't go through that horrid lonely 
 place the road is safer. 
 
 Rory. All places are safe enough for me. (thunder.) 
 
 Scr. Oh, dear!(kans against RORY.) I say, Rory, what's 
 this you have in your hand ? why, I declare it's an iron crow- 
 bar ! 
 
 Rory. Did you ever see a wooden crowbar? 
 
 Scr. No j but it's such an odd thing to carry about with you 
 what do you want with it 1 
 
 Rory. Just to pick my teeth. 
 
 Scr. You do say such odd things ! But really this crow- 
 bar such an odd thing to have how comes it ? 
 
 Rory. Why, I lent it to Larry Lanigan, at the sign of the dead 
 horse kicking the blind man's eyes out. 
 
 Scr. The what 1 
 
 Rory. The public-house beyant, you know. Well, his wife 
 makes her punch so sthrong, that she bent all her silver-spoons 
 sthrivin' to stir it, and so I lent her the crowbar to mix it. 
 But come along if you're comin' for there's no fun in stayin' 
 here, (thunder.) 
 
 Scr. Ob, dear. But you're not going that way in this 
 dreadful storm the river will have risen so high as to make the 
 glen impassable. 
 Rory. The pass at the head of the glen is not yet flooded. 
 
 B3 
 
84 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 Scr. But that river. 
 
 Rory. Are you afraid it will bite you ? 
 
 Scr. No ; but it may drown me. 
 
 Rory. Them that's born for hanging, will never be dhrownded, 
 and there will be worse than the river in the glen, when you're 
 there. 
 
 Scr. O'More, you do say such odd things don't go that way 
 don't! (thunder and lightning.) Oh, dear ! 
 
 Rory. Faith ! I won't stay here any how, so you may stay or 
 come, just as you plaze. 
 
 Scr. But may I depend that 
 
 Rory. Mr. Scrubbs, may be you're afraid o' me now 1 
 don't want your company at all ; and, if I wanted to harm you, 
 here's a crowbar, and a mighty convaynient place. Now I'd 
 rather you'd go your own way. (going.} 
 
 Scr. No, no! my dear O'More don't leave me. 
 
 Rory. Well, I'm going through the glen, and if you're so 
 afraid of your own company as to prefer mine, why, follow me. 
 
 Scr. Well, don't go far from me, at all events. 
 
 [Exit RORY, R. H. ; SCRUBBS lays hold of the skirt of hit 
 coat, and follows. 
 
 SCENE V. A large vaulted subterranean apartment ; a door high 
 up in the back wall, with a ladder leading down from it into the 
 vault ; a large grated window in one of the side walls, which must 
 be distinctly seen by the audience, and large enough to permit 
 the characters to be seen passing behind it ; a lamp hangs from 
 the roof' t FLANNERTY, PIERRE, and others seated on blocks of 
 stone round some rude planks, supported tablewise on stones also ; 
 a large pot hangs suspended over a turf fire ; the characters art; 
 drinking. 
 
 Pie. Pass the brandy round again ; here's a toast : Bad luck 
 to Scrubbs the collector. 
 
 Fla. He won't trouble us much longer. 
 
 Pie. No; when DeWelskein comes, his fate will be settled. 
 I wonder what keeps him. 
 
 SOLOMON appears at the grated window. 
 
 Sol. Good boys good boys all at school and minding your 
 lesson. 
 
 Pie. Welcome old fellow come down. 
 
 [SOLOMON disappears from the grate. 
 
 Old soldering Solomon is never late when there is mischief in 
 the wind. 
 
 SOLOMON descends the ladder. 
 
 Omnes. Welcome old Sol. welcome ! 
 
 Pie. So you're come to school too. 
 
 Sol. Yes ; but I haven't got a book with me. I'll take a leaf 
 out of yours, (takes PIERRE'S brandy-flask and drinks.) 
 The Munseer is not come yet. 
 
RORY O'MORE. 35 
 
 DE WELSKEIN and SHAN DHU appear at the gate ; DE WELSKEIN 
 
 puts his head through the bars. 
 
 De W. (from above.) Who told you so, sair ? (retires.) 
 Sol. Talk of the devil here he comes. 
 
 DE WELSKEIN and SHAN DHU descend the ladder. 
 
 De W. Now den for de bizziness. Firste I mind de potage, 
 and den we moste mak littel commeetay of poobleek sefty. 
 Now Mistair Solsodderman, you open dis affaire. 
 
 [DE WELSKEIN lays hold of a large cooking ladle. 
 
 Sol. Yes ; but I'll open this affair first, (uncorks the brandy 
 and drinks again.) 
 
 De W. Ah, you old feesh ! (goes over to the fire, and attends 
 the boiling pot.) 
 
 Sol. Now, gentlemen this collector you know this Scrubbs, 
 he has got our friend Darby Daly in jail he's to swear against 
 him at the next 'sizes ; and so sure as he does, Darby goes over 
 the herring-pond. Now, I says that Scrubbs must be put out 
 o' the way. 
 
 Omnes. Ay ! Ay ! 
 
 Fla. Give him a dog's knock. 
 
 Shan. I don't like murder. 
 
 Flan. Don't you 1 are you afraid of his ghost eh I 
 
 De W. Settel ees ash. 
 
 Sol. Dead men tell no tales. 
 
 Shan. But murder speaks out. 
 
 Sol. And that's the only objection you have to it. 
 
 De W. Solsodderman ees roight ! de ded mans has HO tails, 
 I moste minde my paut, or he vill run overdevay. 
 
 Fla. But about Scrubbs that's our great business. 
 
 Sol. I say, dead men tell no tales. 
 
 Pie. Wouldn't it do to send him over sea ? 
 
 Shan. Yes ; and if you take my advice there is another you'll 
 send along with him. 
 
 Pie. Who? 
 
 Shan. Rory O'More. 
 
 De W. (aside.) Settel von ting at von time suppose you 
 let de collectere come over de say vis me he may speak mosh 
 as he like in France. 
 
 Sol. Dead men tell no tales. 
 
 Shan. Bloodthirsty villain ! 
 
 De W. What moste it be ? to kil im or to tek im vis me. 
 Foot up your 'ans shall de collectere go over de vattere ? 
 
 Omnes. (holding up hands.) Ay ! Ay ! 
 
 De W. Von, two, tree, four, seven, five, eleven dat vil 
 do he go over de vattere. 
 
 Sol. Now that you've settled that, we may as well play a 
 game of cards, while the Munseer is minding the cooking. 
 
 Shan. What stakes shall we play for ? 
 
 Sol. The larger the better I don't like losing time for 
 shabby stakes, (a party sit down to play.) 
 
36 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 [DE WELSKEIN goes round the table, and looks at all the 
 cards, giving SOLOMON an occasional signal. 
 
 De W. Very goot cars indeed. Ver nice play, sair ; ha ! 
 you old rog you play besser dan any bodie by gar you vin 
 him. 
 
 [DE WELSKEIN tkirns the pot while the deal is made, and 
 goes through the same manoeuvres at the game ; SOLO- 
 MON wins again. 
 
 Shan. Why Solomon yon are winning every thing. 
 Sol. Oh, that's nothing to what I can do down with the 
 stakes again. 
 
 [All lay down their slakes, and after playing a round, a 
 vivid flash of lightning crosses the grated window fol- 
 lowed by a loud peal of thunder. 
 
 Shan, (starting.') What a dreadful peal ! 
 
 Sot. Mind your play, (thunder,) 
 
 Shan. No ; I'll play no more. 
 
 De W. Sacre, what you 'fraid for ! tonzer and loightening 
 is nussing but natture. You moight as veil be fraid of de 
 sun and de moon, and de stars, as de tonzer ; it is all natture 
 and all natture is nussing at all but (a tremendous peal of 
 thunder, DE WELSKEIN looks serious) by gar, dere is great shange 
 in de wedder ! 
 
 [All the players rise from the game, and leave the money on 
 the table. 
 
 Shan. I'll go. 
 
 Sol. You fool, you are safer here, under these arches, (a 
 tremendous peal, and vivid lightning.) 
 Shan. I'll stay no longer. 
 
 [As he ascends the ladder, a thunderbolt falls, and is 
 followed by a loud crash, and a large mass of the 
 building falls across the entrance. 
 Horror ! horror ! the door is blocked up. 
 
 [Great consternation appears among the group. 
 Pie. And the fire is going out. The waters are rising under 
 the foundations. 
 
 [SHAN DHU lights a torch and waves it at the window ; 
 the waters rise rapidly within the vaults ; the smug- 
 glers run to and fro, making exclamations of fear ; 
 the table is placed near the window, and they stand tipoii 
 it ; RORY O'MORE and SCRUBBS appear above, at tiie 
 grating-, the smugglers exclaim, " Save us, save us !" 
 RORY wrenches the bars from the window with the crow- 
 bar, and SHAN DHU, DE WELSKEIN, and others get 
 out ; they seize RORY and SCRUBBS. 
 
 Shan. Victory ! they're our prisoners ! 
 
 orm a tableau, and the curtain falls. 
 
RORY O'MORE. 37 
 
 [The mechanism of the Adelphi Theatre, rendered the rising 
 of the waters in the foregoing very effective ; but in the case of 
 provincial theatres, which might not have the command of 
 such scenic effect, the following arrangement of the scene is 
 recommended :] 
 
 SCENE V.-Exteriorof the ruins of the Folly A large arch, 
 with iron gratings in the foreground, through which is seen 
 a vault \ lighted with a lamp A fire burns within it, over 
 which is suspended an iron pot 'Two or three figures are 
 seen within The exterior it under the effect of moonlight, the 
 interior under that of fire-light FLANNERTY, PIERRE, and 
 two others are discovered outside, drinking The dialogue 
 then proceeds, the same as in the foregoing scene, with such 
 alterations of changing the situation from interior to exte- 
 rior, as the business of the scene requires, till the smugglers 
 having finally gone 'into the vault to play their game, are 
 there made prisoners by the thunderbolt throwing down the 
 building, and blocking up the entrance; at the same time the 
 walls and roof appear to give way, and the waters are seen 
 to pour downwards upon them, when they rush to the bars 
 and cry for help, while they endeavour to pull down the 
 grating, at which moment RORY and SCRUBBS enter, and 
 the following dialogue ensues : 
 
 Enter RORY and SCRUBBS. 
 
 Rory. Hubbaboo! what's this Misther Divilskin, is that 
 you'! 
 
 De W. Rory ? boy help us help us ve vill be drowned 
 if you do naut mek base. 
 
 Rory. Faith, you're a quare fish to be in the wather there. 
 
 Omnes. Let us out ! Let us out ! 
 
 Rory. Faix, it's I that will do that same. Now you'll see 
 Misther Scrubbs, the use of this little toothpick o* mine for 
 you see I'll pick them fellows outo' the jaws o' death with it. 
 
 Scr. Let them out, Rory don't ! 
 
 Rory. Why you hard-hearted villain, do you think I'd lave 
 them to perish with hunger and thirst in the wather? 
 
 De W. Oh ! Rory, mek base, mek base ! 
 
 Rory. Make hay yis, while the sun shines so beautiful. 
 (wrenches the bars.) There ! and there ! now you've room to 
 get out ; give us your fist, you poor dhrounded rat. (assists DE 
 WELSKEIN to get out, the rest follow.) 
 
 De W. Tank you, Mistair Rory, tank you merci, merci ! 
 
 Rory. 'Twas a mercy, sure enough, ould Divilskin, and you 
 ought to say your prayers after it. 
 
 Shan, (pointing to SCRUBBS.) See, who's behind him the 
 collector ! 
 
 Rory. And what if it is ? 
 
 Shan. Birds of a feather flock together ! 
 
 . Shan Dhu you're a slandherous villain j I met this 
 
38 RORT O'MORE. 
 
 man at the mouth o' the glen : he asked me to lead him in 
 safety through] it ; I promised I would, and Rory O'More 
 never broke his faith yet. 
 
 Shan. You hold your head mighty high, Misther O'More. 
 
 Rory. No higher than an honest man may hold it. See, 
 boys ; I considher myself.bound in honour to this man. 
 
 Shun, (contemptuously.) Your honour ! indeed seize them ! 
 (advancing .) 
 
 Rory. If you have not the spark of honour, at least have the 
 spark of gratitude. I saved your lives this minute, you 
 dhroundin' rats as you were, and all I ask is to let us pass un- 
 harmed. 
 
 De W. See. Mistair Rory we shall not do you no harm, 
 but dis jentelman most coame wis me. (advancing.) 
 
 Rory. (interposing.) See, Divilskin just keep your five fingers 
 off o' that man he's in my company, and must not be touched. 
 
 Omnes. No ! No ! give us the collector the collector. 
 
 De W. De collectere ! 
 
 Scr. (clinging to RORY.) Oh Rory, don't betray me. 
 
 Rory. Betray you ! that word to me, after what you've 
 heard; bad luck to you, you cowardly hound,; pull out your 
 ould toasting-fork and fight like a man for it. 
 
 Scr. (clings close.) Oh Rory Rory ! 
 
 De W. Give him up, sair. 
 
 Rory. (to SCRUBBS.) Bad luck to you, let me go, or I can't 
 fight. 
 
 De W. Will you give him up ? (draws.) 
 
 Rory. Whoever gets him must walk over my body first. 
 (throws himself into a posture of defence.) 
 
 Shan. I told you this Rory O'More, you're a traitor ! 
 
 Rory. Shan Dhu, you're a liar ! 
 
 Shan. Down with them ! 
 
 [The characters form a tableau, SHAN DHU standing in 
 triumph over RORY. 
 
 ACT III. 
 SCENE I. Exterior o/ O'MORE' s cottage. 
 
 Enter DE LACY, and B!ARY, L. H. 
 De L. I wish I could be as hopeful as you, Mary. 
 Mary. But why do you despair, sir. 
 
 De L. I may talk to you of the cause, Mary ; for you are a 
 brave, as well as a good girl. You know the cause I speak of. 
 Man/. The cause of our country ! 
 De L. Yes, Mary alas ! that cause, I fear, is lost. 
 Mary. Ob, say not lost, sir. 
 
 De L. Yes, lost ; I find we have no hope of aid from France, 
 and without it, must be hopeless. 
 Mary. A noble cause is never hopeless. 
 
RORY O'MORE. 39 
 
 De L. Your sentiment is generous, Mary, but I fear me 'tis 
 also fallacious. 
 
 Mary. We have an old saying in Ireland, sir, which has 
 often inspired to noble deeds. Let me inspire you with that 
 saying. Remember, that the darkest hour is the hour before 
 day. 
 
 Song.- MAIIY . 
 
 THE HOUR BEFORE DAY. 
 
 Bereft of his love and bereaved of his fame, 
 A knight to the cell of the old hermit came ; 
 " My foes they have slander'd, and forced me to fly, 
 Oh ! tell me,Ood father, what's left, but to die !" 
 " Despair not my son, thou'lt be righted ere long, 
 For Heaven is above us, to right all the wrong : 
 Remember the words the old hermit doth say ; 
 'Tis always the darkest the hour before day !" 
 
 Oh ! the hour before day, &c. 
 
 " Then back to the tourney, and back to the court, 
 
 And join thee the bravest in chivalry's sport, 
 
 Thy foes will be there, and thy lady-love, too 
 
 And show both thou'rt a knight that is gallant and true." 
 
 He rode in the lists, all his foes he o'erthrew, 
 
 And a bright glance be caught from a soft eye of blue, 
 
 And he thought of the words the old hermit did say, 
 
 For her glance was as bright as the dawning of day ; 
 
 Oh ! the hour before day, &c. 
 
 The feast it was late in the castle that night, 
 
 And the banquet was beaming with beauty and light, 
 
 But fairest of all is the lady who glides 
 
 To the porch, where a knight with a fleet courser bides. 
 
 She paused 'neath the arch, at the fierce ban-dog's bark, 
 
 She trembled to look on the night 'twas so dark ; 
 
 But her lover he whisper'd, and thus did he say : 
 
 " Sweet love it is darkest the hour before day V 
 
 Oh ! the hour before day, &c. 
 
 De L. Brave girl ! such a song might well inspire to hope- 
 fulness. 
 
 Enter the WIDOW O'MORE, R. H. 
 
 Wid. Oh, Mr. De Lacy. My boy ! my boy ! 
 
 De L. What of him ? 
 
 Wid. They have accused him of murder ! 
 
 Mary. Oh, mother ! 
 
 De L. Who have accused him 1 
 
 Wid. The collector's friends. Mr. Scrubbs is missing, and 
 as Rory was the last person known to be in his company, they 
 have accused him of his murder. 
 
40 
 
 De L. Atrocious charge but fear not, Mrs. O'More 
 Rory's innocence will be easily established. 
 
 Wid. I met poor Kathleen just now, wellnigh distracted ; 
 going to the glen of tbe Folly, where they say Rory and the 
 collector were last seen poor girl, her heart was breaking. 
 
 Mary. Mother, I will follow her my brother, my brother 
 1 would die to save him. [Exit MARY, n. H. 
 
 De L. In the glen of the Folly, you say. Courage, Mrs. 
 O'More ; I will look in another direction, (aside.) I fear some 
 of De Welskein's people may have done this 1 know they have 
 a retreat in the hills, I will hasten there ; (puts his haad to his 
 pocket ;) I have my pistols. Mrs. O'More, be of good cheer 
 for I will lose my own life rather than a hair of Rory's head 
 shall be harmed. [Exit, L. H. 
 
 Wid. Heaven bless you, sir. [Exit, R. H 
 
 SCENE II. The retreat of' the smugglers in the hills a grated 
 door in the background a door leading into the retreat, at the 
 side. Arms are lying about barrels of gunpowder in one corner 
 a wood fire lighting on the hearth RORY O'MoRE discovered with 
 his arms pinioned. 
 
 Rory. Well, I often heer'd that bad company was the ruin 
 of a man, and I know it now, for it was being along with that 
 blackguard Scrubbs that got me into this scrape. Bad luck to 
 them how tight they've tied me ; oh, then if I could only get 
 my hand loose I'd be a match for the vagabones yet. That's 
 gunpowdher over there in the corner I know that and by 
 dad, if 1 was only masther of my own pair o' five fingers, I'd 
 make a bargain with them yet, would astonish them. 
 
 NELLY enters through side door. 
 
 Nel. Rory, do you forget me ? 
 
 Rory. Forget you ! by my soul, to forget a purty face 
 was never a failing o' mine, my jewel and maybe my 
 darlin' little colleen, you'd loosen these cords a thrifle for 
 me. 
 
 Nel. Hush! here's De Welskein he shall loose you, or I'll 
 know the reason why. 
 
 Enter DE WELSKEIN, through side door. 
 
 De W. Ah ! ha ! Miss Nelly what for you coameto talk to 
 dis fellowe ha ! ha ! leetel coquette you go mek my coffee 
 ma'mselle. 
 
 Nel. I'll do nothing for you until that poor boy is loosed 
 aren't you a pretty set of men to tie up one among so many of 
 you I thought a Frenchman was too brave to fear one man. 
 
 De W. Fear ! you say me fear ! Sacre ! me not fear nine- 
 teen tousand seven men vaun hundrede. "Tis not me ties him 
 up, bote Monsieur Reggan ; he fight so moshe. 
 
EORY O'MORE. 41 
 
 Rory. Shan Dhu, is it ? well, that's another thrifle I owe 
 him. But he's not here now, and you need not keep me tied 
 if you're not afraid. 
 
 De W. You moaste not say, Mr. Rory, me 'fraid. By gar, 
 me cut you open dis moment vis my knife, (feels in his pocket.) 
 Me not 'fraid of you ; no, by gar, me like you, you soshe 
 fonnee feylow ; bote you bettere stay vis me, for, by gar, if 
 you get avay from here, you be hang. 
 
 Rory. (aside.) I'll be hang'd if I don't get from here. 
 
 De W. My knife not in my poche ; I must go for him. 
 
 [Exit through side door. 
 
 Rory. What does he mane, Nelly, dear, about my being 
 hanged ? 
 
 Ac/. It's truth he tells you, Rory, you're safer here ; Scrubbs 
 is reported to be murdered, and they say you have done the 
 job for him, and the soldiers will put the military law on you, 
 if they catch you. 
 
 Rory. Is it me kill owld Scrubbs, the rap ; I wouldn't dirty 
 my fingers with the likes o' sitch varmint. Oh, my poor mo- 
 ther, and the sister and Kathleen, what will they say of the 
 report agin me, and I not there to give the lie to it ? See, 
 Nelly, if it costs me my life I must get out o' this place. 
 
 Nel. And, if it costs me mine, I'll help you. 
 
 Re-enter DE WELSKEIN, PIERRE, and FLANNERTY. 
 
 De W. Now, sair, me cote you open. 
 
 [Cuts the knot of RORY'S cord, and unwinds it from the 
 stick with which he is pinioned. 
 
 Dere, me like you ; you are soshe fonnee rascal. 
 
 [PIERRE stretches himself on the ground, FLANNERTY sits 
 
 on one of the barrels of gunpowder. 
 
 Rory. Thank you, Divilskin. Oh, murther ! I'll never get 
 the use of my arms agin. 
 
 [Swings back his arms and nearly knocks down DE WELSKEIN. 
 De W. Ha ! what devil of nelbow you aff, sair ; you moste 
 not do dat again ; you moste be quiet, now dat I cut you open ; 
 if you not be quiet I blow you to the devil. See dere sair, 
 (points to the gunpowder,) do you know what is dat over dere, 
 dat dis fellow sit upon him 1 
 
 Rory. It's not soap, I suppose, or he'd wash his face. 
 De W. No, sair, it is gunpowzer ; and dere is fuzils and 
 pltinderpush nuff to blow you forty tousan' time to nussing at 
 all. So you be quiet sair. 
 
 Rory. Oh, I'll be as quiet as an oysther ; but may be you'll 
 tell me what you've done with owld Scrubbs ? 
 
 De W. Nevere you mind, sair ; coame now, seet down by de 
 fire, you shall aff someting to dreenk. 
 Rory. That same's a comfort. 
 
 [They sit down by the fire ; a coffee-pot and brandy-flask 
 are beside it. 
 
42 ROEY O'MORE. 
 
 De W. Vaut vill you aff, cawfee or brandee. 
 
 Rory. Thank you, munseer, I'll take the brandy while the 
 coffee's gettin' ready. 
 
 De W. Ha ! ha ! you fonnee feylow ! by gar you are de von 
 great rog, Monsieur Rory. 
 
 Rory. Do you think so, Munseer ! 
 
 De W. Ah, ha ! von great rog, rascal, by gar. 
 
 Rory. Well, then, there's a pair of us, so here's your health, 
 Divilskin, (drinks,} and if you're ever hang'd for being an 
 honest man, it '11 be a murdher. 
 
 De W. Tank you, Rory, tank you, my boy ; (shakes hands ;) 
 but, by gar, you are de big rog. So cunning you are, ma foi, 
 you are so cunning as dat littel animal vot runs about ; vot 
 you call 'im. 
 
 Rory. Magpies, is it ? 
 
 De 'W. No, no, no ! 
 
 Rory. Magpies is the cunnin'st bastes in the world. 
 
 De W. No, no, not dat ! Bah ! vot you call de littel ting 
 vot runs about vid a broshe. 
 
 Rory. Sweeps, is it"? 
 
 De W. No, no, no ! animal vot runs about vid a tail. 
 
 Rory. Sure you run about with a tail, (lays hold of DE W EL- 
 SKEIN'S queue.) 
 
 De W. I say dat animal vot de gentlemans runs aftere. 
 
 Rory. That s an heiress. 
 
 De W. No, no, no ! dat animal vot ve call le reynard. 
 
 Rory. Oh ! sly reynard the fox, you mane. 
 
 De W. De Faux de faux dat is him ; you be cunning as 
 von faux, Mistair Rory. 
 
 Rory. Oh, the fox is a cunnin' baste, in throth ; an' will you 
 tell me Munseer, have yiz got foxes in France. 
 
 De W. Oh, yais, sairtanlee ; faux very moshe. 
 
 Rory. I'll howld you a quart o' portlier, that they're not to 
 compare with the Irish foxes in the regard o' cunnin'. 
 
 De W. Ver moshe cunning, French faux. 
 
 Rory. Why, an Irish fox would sthrip a French fox of his 
 skin, and sell it before his face, and th'other not know it. 
 
 De W. Bah ! bah ! bah ! 
 
 Rory. Tut, man; you don't know what divils them Irish 
 foxes is. Did you ever hear of the fox of Ballybotherum.* 
 
 De W. Ballabot bosh vaut you call him 1 
 
 Rory. Ballybotherum ; oh, that was the fox in airnest ! divil 
 such fox ever was before nor sense, as that same fox ; and the 
 thing I'm going to tell you happened to a relation of my own, 
 one Mickee Rooney, that was a ranger in the sarvice of The 
 Lord knows who. 
 
 DeW. Lord Whaat? 
 
 * This story is taken from my first series of " Legends and 
 Stories of Ireland j" by permission of Messrs. Baldwin and Cra- 
 dock, and altered to a dramatic form. (AUTHOR.) 
 
RORY O'MORE. 43 
 
 Rory, Lord knows who ; a great lord in them parts. 
 
 Pie. He's making game of you, Munseer. 
 
 Rory. Howld your gab, will you ? do you think, Munseer 
 doesn't know a fox is game as well as you? 
 
 De W. To bee sure. {To PIERRE) You mind your own bas- 
 tiness, sair ; my own bastiness I know mysef. 
 
 Rory. Well, as I was tellin' you, Munseer, the ranger lived 
 in a small taste of a cabin, beside the wood, all alone by himself, 
 barrin' the dogs that was his companions. 
 
 De W. De daugs ? 
 
 Rory. Yes ; himself and the dogs was the only Christians 
 in the place, and one night, when he kem home, wet aad wairy 
 wid the day's sport, he sot down beside the fire, just as we're 
 sittin' here, and began smoking his pipe to warm himself, and 
 when he tuk an air o' the fire, he thought he'd go to bed not 
 to sleep, you persaive, but to rest himself, like ; so he took off 
 his clothes and hung them to dhry forninst the fire, and then 
 he went to bed, and an iligant bed it was; the finest shafe o' 
 sthraw you ever seen, lyin over in the corner, as it might be 
 there, (points to the place where the gunpowder is stowed,) and as 
 Ire was lyin' in bed, thinking o' nothin' at all, and divartin' him- 
 self with lookin* at the smoke curlin' up out o' the fire, what 
 should he see but the door open, and a fox march into the place, 
 just as bowld as if the house was his own ; and he went over 
 and sot down an his hunkers forninst the fire, and began to 
 warm his hands like a Christian ; it's thruth I'm tellin' you. 
 
 De W. Staup, sair, staup ! vere vas de daugs all dis time ? 
 
 Rory. The dogs ; oh, the dogs is it ? Oh, 1 didn't tell you 
 that ! Oh, sure the dogs was runnin* about the wood at the 
 time, ketchin rabbits for the fox was listenin', you see, out- 
 side the door, and heer'd the ranger tell the dogs to go and 
 ketch him a brace o' rabbits for his supper for I go bail if the 
 fox didn't know the dogs was out o' the place, the divil a toe 
 he'd a put inside the ranger's house ; and that shows you the 
 cunnin' o' the baste. Well, as he was sittin' at the fire, what 
 do you think, but he tuk the ranger's pipe off o' the hob, and 
 lights it in the fire, and begins to smoke, as nath'ral as any 
 other man you ever seen. 
 
 De W. Smoke ! de faux smoke ! 
 
 Rory. Oh, yes ! all the Irish foxes smoke when they can get 
 'bakky ; and they are mighty fond o' short-cut when the dogs 
 is afther them ! Well, Munseer, the ranger could hardly keep 
 his tim per at all, when he seen the baste smokin' his pipe, and 
 with that, says he, it's fire and smoke of another kind I'll give 
 you my buck, says he, takin' up his gun to shoot him ; but the 
 fox had put the gun into a pail o' wather, and, of coorse, the 
 divil a fire the gun would fire for the ranger. 
 
 De W. Ha, ha, ha ! sacre" ! 
 
 Rory. And the fox put his finger on his nose, just that-a-way, 
 and laughed at him. Wow ! wow ! says the fox, puttin' out his 
 hand and takin' up the newspaper to read. 
 
 De W. Sacre ! de newpeppair? No, no, my boy. 
 
44 BORY O'MOBE. 
 
 Rory. Why, man alive, how would the fox know where the 
 hounds was to meet next mornin' if he didn't read the paper* 
 sure that shows you the cunnin' o' the baste ! Well, with 
 that, the ranger puts his fingers in his mouth, and gives a blast 
 of a fwhistle you'd hear a mile off, for to call the dogs. Oh ! 
 is it for fwhistlin' you are, says the fox, then it is time for me 
 to lave the place, says he, for 'twould not be good for my 
 health to be here when the dogs comes back. So he lays down 
 the pipe on the hob ; but, before he did, I must tell you, he 
 wiped it with the end of his tail for he was a dacetit baste, and 
 used his tail as nath'ral as a Christian would use the sleeve of 
 his coat for a cowld in his nose and then he was goin' to start ; 
 but the ranger seein him goin' to escape, jumps out o* bed and 
 gets betune him and the door, and divil a start you'll start, 
 says he, till the dogs comes back, you red rascal, and I'll have 
 your head in my fist before long, says he, and that's worth a 
 pound to me. I'll howld you a quart of portlier, says the fox, 
 I'll make you lave that. Divil a lave, says the ranger. Wow, 
 wow ! says the fox, I'm a match for you yet ; and, what do 
 you think, but he whips the ranger's breeches off the back o' 
 the chair, and throws them into the fire, and he knew the divil 
 another pair the ranger had to his back ! 
 
 DeW. Ha! ha! ha! by gar ! 
 
 Rory. That'll make you start, says the fox. Divil a start, 
 says the ranger ; my breeches is worth half-a-crown, and your 
 head's worth a pound, so I'll make seventeen and sixpence by 
 the exchange. Well, you are the stupidist vagabone 1 ever 
 met, says the fox, and I'll make you sensible at last, that you 
 must let me go, for I'll burn you out o' house and home, sa}'s 
 he ; and with that, he takes up a piece o' lighted stick, just like 
 this, (takes a lighted brand from the fire,} and runs over to the 
 ranger's bed in the corner. 
 
 [Upsets DE WELSKEIN, and runs over to the gunpowder. 
 The SMUGGLERS and DE WELSKEIN exclaim, " Gun- 
 powder ! gunpowder !" and retreat to the opposite corner ; 
 RORY stamps his heel through one of the barrels, and 
 upsets it ; the powder falls out. RORY stands in an 
 attitude of triumph on the barrel. 
 
 Wow, wow ! says the fox, this is the match for you a lighted 
 stick and a barrel o' gunpovvther. See, Divilskin, get into 
 that room there, (points to grated door,) lock yourselves up, and 
 bring me the key, or I'll blow you all to owld Nick, your 
 relation. 
 
 De W. Oh ! Rory, Rory ! (attempting to approach.} 
 Rory. Come another step and I'll make a skyrocket of you ! 
 get into the room, I tell you. 
 
 * For this very droll conceit, I am indebted to Mr. Power, to 
 whose rich personation of the whole character, I bear willing and 
 grateful testimony. 
 
RORY O'MORE. 45 
 
 [The smugglers go within the grated door ; DE WELSKEIN 
 goes last, and lingers at the door. 
 
 De W. I will lock dem up and bring you de key. 
 
 Rory. Wow, wow, says the fox go in yourself too, Divilskin, 
 and Nelly shall lock the door she's the only man among you I'll 
 thrust. 
 
 [DE WELSKEIV goes within the door; NELLY locks the 
 door, and hands RORY the key ; RORY replaces the 
 lighted slick in thejire. 
 
 Hurra ! now I have you Nelly, avic, give me a dhrink, for 
 tellin' that story made me thirsty. (NELLY Jills drink; RORY 
 drinks.) Here's your health, Divilskin wasn't that a mighty 
 purty story I towld you ? Now, such a purty set o' black- 
 birds as you are in your cage there might sing me a song in 
 return. 
 
 De W. Oh, you rascal ! 
 
 Rory. Nelly, dear, may I thrust to you 1 (handing her the key.) 
 
 Net. May you trust me ? (reproachfully.) 
 
 Rory. Curse on my tongue for say in' the word my heart never 
 doubted a woman yet there, (gives the key,) just give me ten 
 minutes' law, and then let them dogs out o' their kennel as 
 soon as you like and if they can catch the fox o' Ballybo- 
 therum, I'll forgive them good by'e, Nelly. 
 
 Nel. And now you'll forget me, Rory. 
 
 Rory. Forget you 1 I'll never forget your purty face, nor 
 your kind heart, Nelly, avic and the next time we meet, I 
 hope 'twill be in betther company, for both our sakes. Give 
 us a kiss, (kisses her.) 
 
 De W. Oh ! Rory, Rory ! I am ashamed wis my face. 
 
 Rory. Then turn your back, you vagabone good by'e, 
 Nelly, good by'e Divilskin, and see the next time you ketch 
 a fox, if he's an Irish fox, take care of your breeches ! 
 
 [ Exit through door. 
 
 De W. Nelly, Nelly, open de door. 
 
 Nel. No, no. (seats herself in a chair, and rocks herself to and 
 fro.) 
 
 De W. Nellee ! my loaf Nellee, ma chere ! 
 
 Nel. Wait for half an hour. 
 
 [Whirls the key on her fingers, and laughs at them ; 
 scene closes. 
 
 SCENE III. A pass in the hills. 
 Enter DE LACY and RORY at opposite sides. 
 
 Rory. Oh, Misther De Lacy, is that you ? 
 
 De L. I was on my way to the hills in search of you. 
 
 Rory. And I've just come from the hills, and am glad I met 
 you before you got there for a great set o' vagabones is in it, 
 and Divilskin at the head o' them. 
 
 De L. Do you know any thing of the Collector ? 
 
 Rory. So you've heerd of it too, I see. 
 
46 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 De L. Yes ; and I'm sorry to tell you, you are accused of his 
 murder. 
 
 Rory. I murdher the likes of him, indeed! Ton my con- 
 science, Misther De Lacy, I sthrove all I could to save him, 
 but it was no use, and I know no more what's become of him 
 than the child unborn, for you see they took us away both to- 
 gether, separately ! 
 
 De L. Then I recommend you to keep concealed until the 
 Collector is found, for I dread the consequences of your being 
 seen while the collector is mising. 
 
 Rory. Throth I'll never hide my head while IVe done 
 nothing to be ashamed of, nor skulk like a guilty man and 
 tell me, sir, does the mother and sisther, and Kathleen know of 
 this bad report agin me ? 
 
 De L. Yes ; and Mary and Kathleen have gone to the glen 
 of the Folly in search of you. 
 
 Rory. The glen of the Folly ! then you and I had betther 
 be after them, for that glen of the Folly is not a good place for 
 young women to be in you know that big ould empty house 
 there .' 
 
 De L. Yes. 
 
 Rory. It's [full o' blackguards so the sooner you and I is 
 afther them the betther I know a short cut over the hills here 
 that will bring us there in less than no time. 
 
 De L. You are unarmed take one of my pistols, (hands a 
 pistol.) 
 
 Rory. Unarmed ? look at that (shows his stick) keep your 
 pistols Misther De Lacy. You understan' them this is the 
 pistol for me and it has one great advantage it never misses 
 fire. [Exeunt RORY and DE LACY, L. H. 
 
 SCENE THE LAST. The Glen of the Folly the ruins of a 
 romantic building standing on the brink of a turbulent monntain- 
 stream a waterfall in the distance some underwood (practicable), 
 interspersed among the rocks. 
 
 Enter KATHLEEN, R. H. 
 
 Kat* Here is the spot he was last traced to and hee in this 
 wild glen, and even up to the walls of this old ruin, of which 
 fearful tales are told, have I ventured in quest of him 'tis a 
 lonely place but what o' that the world would be lonely 
 without my beloved Rory, and why should I not venture to 
 the deepest cave within it to seek him here I see some foot- 
 prints, (examines.) and here and here, up to this broken grating 
 there was a struggle here. Oh, Heaven ! if he should have 
 fallen in that struggle if he should have been betrayed here ! 
 My heart misgives me, for this is one of Shan Dhu's haunts, 
 and his hatred may have roused him to desperate deeds hark ! 
 I hear footsteps approaching. 
 
 Shan, (without.) Come on, I say. 
 
RORY O'MORE. 47 
 
 Kath. Distraction ! 'tis Shan Dhu's voice. Heaven be my 
 guard, (conceals herself beneath the underwood.) 
 
 Enter SHAN DHU, and SCRUBBS, L, H., whose hands are tied behind his 
 back. 
 
 Scr. Why do you bring me back again to this confounded 
 place where you first trapped me ? 
 
 Shan. Then I'll tell you for your comfort. 
 
 Scr. You look like a kind-hearted person. 
 
 Shan. Do I ? Well then, I'll tell you the reason I bring you 
 back to this place is, that the military have been seeking here 
 already, and therefore, are not likely to seek again. 
 
 Scr. What a comfortable answer ! 
 
 Shan. March you must go into the building. 
 
 Scr. Oh, dear ! Couldn't you let me escape .' 
 
 Shan. And be hanged when you could catch me after. 
 
 Scr. No ; 'pon my honour I'd provide for you handsomely ; 
 I'd make you parish-clerk on full salary. 
 
 Shan. Take care it's not a grave-digger I may prove 
 go in ! 
 
 [SCHXJBBS is shoved up some steps into the Folly, through a 
 broken arch. 
 
 Kath. (coming from her concealment.) Let me fly from this 
 horrible spot Heavens ! what an escape I've had. (going;, but 
 pauses suddenly.) Ha! that hateful old Solomon coming I 
 cannot escape I must trust to concealment again, (hides as 
 before.) 
 
 Enter SOLOMON, L. H. 
 
 Sol. Well, 'tis an ill wind that blows nobody good and the 
 storm last night in the vaults yonder turned up pretty well 
 for me. (shakes a bag of coin.) This is the sweepings of the 
 table, monsieur won't ask me for his share of the cheating he 
 thinks 'twas all lost when the waters came upon us hegh ! 
 hegh ! hegh ! for all the others did lose their money then ; 
 how they were frightened but that's the time, when people 
 are off their guard that's the time for a bit o' spekkleation 
 and now to hide it along wish the rest, under my old friend 
 the gray stone yonder some people place their money on a 
 good foundation ; I put a good foundation over mine. 
 
 [Opens a large knife, digs round a stone in the back- 
 ground, and lifts it from its bed ; while thus employed, 
 SHAN DHU appears at the door of the tower, and ob- 
 serves him, cautiously approaches, and stands behind 
 him unobserved, as the tinker lifts a bag of coin from 
 under the stone ; SOLOMON hugs the treasure to his 
 heart. 
 
 My darlings, my beauties, (opening the bag and looking in.) 
 There (throwing in the fresh coin), lie there you're in good 
 company. 
 
48 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 [SHAN taps 1dm on the shoulder ; the tinker starts, makes 
 an exclamation of fear, and hides the money-bag under 
 his coat. 
 
 Shan. Well, Soldering Solomon what brings you here to 
 day? 
 
 Sol. I was only gathering a few simples for a complaint I've 
 got. 
 
 Shan. I know ; you're labouring under too much care. 
 Sol. Care! 
 
 Shan. Yes ; now suppose I was to relieve you of some of 
 your complaint ? there's nothing like sharing with a friend. 
 Sol. Ah ! Shan, Shan ! you're always joking, (going.) 
 Shan. Stop, stop ! you don't know how skilful I am. Why, 
 man, you've got a desperate fit of jaundice ; your eyes are as 
 yellow as gold. Do you know that it all proceeds from a bag 
 of yellow stuff that people have about them here I 
 
 [Poking at SOLOMON'S side where the bag is concealed. 
 
 Zounds, what an increase you've got ! 
 
 [Pulls open the coat and exposes the bag ; SOLOMON looks 
 aghast, while SHAN utters a half savage, half derisive 
 laugh. 
 
 Sol. Shan, you're a queer fellow 'tis only a few. 
 
 Shan. I know I know ; of course, very few and not a 
 guinea amongst them all copper, I dare say ; but see, (se- 
 riously,) whatever it is, the half of it is mine. 
 
 Sol. Yours? 
 
 Shan. Yes, mine ; the half is mine and be thankful I don't 
 take the whole. 
 
 Sol. Shan, you wouldn't take his savings from a poor man ? 
 
 Shan. Poor 1 why you starved miser ; you who never had the 
 heart to buy a meal's meat, or a hearty glass, you have more 
 gold than many a sporting fellow in the country more than 
 ever you can want, and I do want it and, what's more, I'll 
 have it before you leave this. 
 
 Sol. Why, Regan, it's not robbing an old man you'd be ? 
 
 Shan. Robbing ! you talk of robbing ! who was it stole the 
 stakes of the game last night 1 You thought no one saw you ; 
 but I did and now we'll see who can play the best game here. 
 
 Sol. Shan, dear ; don't take it from me now, and it shall all 
 be yours when I die. 
 
 Shan. Die ! take care how you put me in mind o' that. 
 
 Sol. Oh, Shan ! you wouldn't murder a poor old man, would 
 you! 
 
 Shan. Who was it told me last night that dead men tell no 
 tales 1 
 
 Sol. No, you wouldn't you wouldn't ? 
 
 Shan, (seizing him.) Wouldn't I ? Give me the half of that 
 bag, or, by this knife, (wrenches the knife from SOLOMON'S hand,) 
 this very knife with which you dug your stolen gain from out 
 its hiding-place, old thieving .magpie ! I'll dig it from your 
 heart ! Will you give it ? 
 
RORV O'MORE. 49 
 
 V<>/. Never ! I'll sooner part with my life. 
 Shan. Then take your choice. 
 
 [Throws down SOLOMON, and is about to stab him, when 
 KATHLEEN screams and rushes from her hiding-place. 
 SHAN DHU starts from the ground ; SOLOMON rises 
 and runs to KATHLEEN. 
 Sol. Save me ! save me ! 
 
 Kath. Shan Dhu ! Shan Dhu ! you did not mean this. I 
 know you did not. In a moment of passion you forgot your- 
 self, Shan ! I know you did. We'll leave you, Shan. 
 
 Shan. No ; you shan't leave me. Old villain go ! Away, and 
 save your gold ! and leave this spying lady with me. 
 
 [The TINKER attempts to go. 
 
 Kath. (throwing herself at his knees and holding him.) No, no ! 
 you would not leave me ! Oh, Solomon ! good Solomon ! dear 
 Solomon ! do not leave me with that dreadful man. 
 Sol. (striking at her hands.) Let me go ! let me go ! 
 
 [SHAN seizes KATHLEEN'S arm, and drags her from SOLO- 
 MON, who disengages himself and hurries away, R. H. 
 Shan. And now, my prying lass, you'll find out more in the 
 glen than you came to watch for. 
 
 Kath. Shan Dhu, may the heaven that looks down on us 
 both, judge and punish you if you wrong me ! 
 Shan. I'm desperate now, and you shall be mine. 
 
 [Seizes KATHLEEN round the waist, she struggles and 
 screams for help ; as she is almost sinking, MART 
 O'MoRE rushes in, L. H. 
 Mary. Villain ! villain ! unmanly villain ! 
 
 [Rushes to KATHLEEN'S aid, and endeavours to disengage 
 
 her ; DB WELSKEIN enters at the moment t L. H. 
 De W. Who calls for elp ? Ah ! my littel girl. 
 Shan. Seize her ! we can bear them both off now. 
 De W. Ha ! ha ! you shall coame to my littel sheep. 
 
 [The women make an ineffectual struggle, and are being 
 borne away by the men, when DE LACY and ROUY 
 appear on the cliff above the waterfall, and rush upon 
 SHAN and DE WELSKEIN. RORY attacks the latter, 
 who draios a cutlass, which RORY protects himself from 
 successfully with a stick. SHAN DHU gives >/p his hold 
 on KATHLEEN, who faints; DE LACY engages SHAN 
 DHU, who is disarmed, and retreatt up the cliff, turns 
 as he is half-way up, and draws a pistol. 
 De Lacy, (drawing a pistol.) Dare to fire, and you die ! 
 Shan. Rory O'More, this to your heart ! 
 
 [MARY screams as SHAN DHU fires at RORY, who is en- 
 gaged in struggle with DE WELSKEIN ; the ball takes 
 effect on DE WELSKEIN, who falls. 
 DeLacy. Villain! take the reward of your treachery, 
 
 [Fires at SHAN as he gains the summit of tht cliff, SIIAV 
 titters a piercing en/, and falls down the cataract ; 
 c 
 
50 RORY O'MORE. 
 
 RORY and MARY hasten to KATHLEEN, whom he lifts 
 from the ground. 
 
 Rory. Open your eyes, my colleen, and look on your own 
 Rory ; you're safe, you're safe now, darlin' ! 
 
 De L. Where's that ruffian De Welskein? 
 
 Rory. He's got more than he bargained for ; a chance shot 
 may kill the divil, they say, and owld Divils/u has got his 
 gruel, I'm thinking. 
 
 Kath. Oh, Rory ! 'twas heaven that sent you here. 
 
 Rory. 'Twas an angel that brought me here, any how. 
 
 Kath. How came you to arrive so opportunely ? 
 
 Rory. Why, I gave the vagabones the slip in the hills yon- 
 dher, and, on my return, met Misther De Lacy coming to look 
 for me, and when he towld me where you and Mary had gone 
 I lost no time in being afther you -for I knew it was not the 
 safest neighbourhood in the world. But now, let us get home, 
 as fast as we can, for, in throth, you want rest, jewel. 
 
 [A bugle sounds ; COL. THUNDER and SOLDIERS appear 
 
 in the distance, and march on the stage. 
 Hillo ! here's more of it what's going to happen now? 
 
 Col. T. This is the man. (points to RORY.) Arrest him. 
 
 [Soldiers advance, DE LACY by his action expresses surprise 
 
 Rory. For what ? 
 
 Col. T. For murder. 
 
 Rory. Oh, murdher, murdher arrah, who did I murdher ? 
 
 Col. The Collector. 
 
 Kath. fie is innocent ! He is innocent, (runs to the ruin, and 
 in'ers.) 
 
 Rory. Oh, my poor girl ! she's gone mad, I'm afeard ; 
 Misther De Lacy would you go afther her ! Colonel, by this 
 and that, all I know of the Collector is that I did all I could 
 to save him and we were taken off together. 
 
 Col. Produce the Collector or you die. Bear him away ! 
 
 Kath. (appearing at the entrance of the ruin, with SCRUBBS still 
 bound.} Hold ! hold ! here is the Collector, (advances to the 
 front.) 
 
 Rory. Hurra ! all's right then. Kathleen, darling, you're 
 a janius ! where did you scrubb out old Scrubbs ? 
 
 Kath. I saw him placed there by Shan Dim while I lay con- 
 cealed. 
 
 Rory. By dad, Scrubbs, I never thought I would be glad to 
 see you, but, 'pon my soul I am. 
 
 Scr. Oh. Colonel Thunder I'm more dead than alive ! 
 how is my darling wife ? 
 
 Col. Tell me, Mr. Scrubbs, have you any charge against this 
 man? (points to RORY.) 
 
 Rory. Spake out did I murdher you ? 
 
 Scr. To do him every justice, he did all he could to save 
 me. 
 
 Rry. But saltpethre couldn't save him, and that's a sthrong 
 pickle. 
 
RORY O MORE. 51 
 
 Col. Then you are free, (to ROEY ; KATHLEEN rushes to his 
 arms.) 
 
 Rory. My jewel, and 'twas your own sweet purty little self 
 saved me afther all. Colonel, dear, when you kem to take me 
 at first, I thought it might be something about that tay. 
 
 Col. Hush ! here's a marriage portion for Kathleen, (gives a 
 purse.) And not a word about tea. 
 
 Rory. I wouldn't say bohay for the world. And now, 
 Colonel, if you're goin' my way home I'll be proud to see you, 
 sir, and indeed the Collecthor too, though he nigh hand cost 
 me my life ; and indeed I'll ax every friend I meet between this 
 and my own house, to come wid me and dhrink long life to 
 me afther all my adventures, and sure if the house is too 
 small, them that can't get inside must stay outside; but they'll 
 be well received all the same, and the oftener they come the 
 more welcome will they be to Rory O'More. 
 
 WHITING, BEAUFORT HOUSK.