-NRLF THE I RISK POST A COMIC DRAMA. IN TWO ACTS, BY J . E . P L A N C H ^, AUTHOR OP Reputation; Follies of a Night ; Grist to the Mill; Captain of the Watch ; Somebody Else ; A Cabinet Question ; Irish Post ; The Jacolite ; Spring Gardens The Pride of the Market; Not a Bad Judge ; The Jen- kinses; Knights of the Round Table, $*c., $c. THOMAS HAILBS LACY 89, STRAND, LONDON. THE IRISH POST. First performed at the Theatre Royal Haymarket t on Saturday February 28, 1846. CHARACTERS. Mr. Sheriff Capsicomb Mr. Bartholomew Lane (a stock broker) George Lane . (his son) Terence O'Grady (his nephew) John . (a porter) Richard . Policeman Grocer's Lad . Boy Mrs. Capsicomb Mary Capsicomb Mrs. Lump Mr. JAMES BLAND. Mr. TILBUBT. Mr. CARLE. Mr HUDSON. M. ENNIS. Mr. HARCOURT. Mr. W. SANTER. Master ELLIS. Master ENNIS. Mrs. L. S. BUCKINGHAM, Miss; WOULDS. Mrs. HUMBY. MODERN COSTUMES. Characteristic of the station of persons' representations. THE IRISH POST. ACT I. SCENE. J/r. Bartholomew Lane's Office, near the Royal Exchange. Door in flat, R. GEORGE and O'GKADY discovered at their desks. GEORGE. 10918137; carried up, 137148152 158 64 no? 69, no, stop; that's not right, con- found it ! O'G. (reading what he has just written.} "Gentlemen, be pleased to pay." Tint's a mighty odd expression be pleased to pay ! I wonder who the devil would be- pleased to pay anything ! Xone of my ancestors, I'm sure if I take after them. GEORGE. 148, don't talk. Terence, 152 58- G'G. Faith, I'd like to see the gentleman who would be pleased to pay ! I'd show him for money, and make a fortune of him ! GEORGE. Hold your tongue, will you ? O'G. Sure, you're not the gentleman who would be pleased to pay, or you'd refund the half-crown I lovi , ou a month ago. GEORGE. Hang your half-crown ! There, (flinging one to him.} take it, do, and stop your eternal chatter. I shall never get these accounts right. How on earth do you manage to write when you're talking to yourself all the time ? You can't be thinking of what you're about. O'G. I am, and of a thousand things beside I've a wonderful genius I GEORGE. For making mistakes. O'G. Sure, I've a right to make 'em ; ain't I an Irish- man ? I stand up for my national privileges ! 4 THE IRISH POST. Act 1. GEORGE. You abuse your privileges : no Irishman in. c he world ever made such blunders as you do. You're /ernally getting yourself, or somebody else, into scrapes by them. What did you do yesterday ? I hear there was a crowd round you in Cornhill. O'G. There was, but it was through you ! GEORGE. Through me ! O'G. Through you ! every bit of it; I was standing at Birch's eating an oyster patty, when I saw you scuttling along on the other side of the way ; I called after you, and you wouldn't hear me, so I made but one hop, step and a jump, over the road, and coining slyly behind you, knocked your hat over your eyes ! GEORGE. What d'ye mean? I was at Islington all day, with the governor. O'G. So you were, for it wasn't you after all, but a felloAv I'd never seen before in all my life ! " Boh," says I ; " Holloa," says he ; " what the devil do you mean by that, sir r" " No* offence in the world, sir," says I ; " but I thought you were my cousin George, sir," says I, " the handsomest young man you'll see in a summer's day, sir.' r "The Lord forgive me for lying," says I to myself; but I couldn't say less to the gentleman, after breaking his hat,, and the bridge of his nose into the bargain. GEORGE. I should think not. O'G. Sure, it was a mighty pretty compliment to pay such a Kangaroo as he was ; but that didn't satisfy him. " None of your blarney," says he ; " I'll bet you a pound you didn't think any such thing." " Done," says I, " I've lost, and there's the money." Faith, he took that easier than the compliment ; so I had the pleasure of wishing him good morning, and seeing him buy a new water-proof best short nap, with my own sovereign. GEORGE. Serve you right ; I wonder he didn't have you up before the Lord Mayor. O'G. Oh, faith, somebody began calling police in the first instance ; but long life to the boys, they're never to- be seen when they're wanted. GEORGE. Why, you knew well enough I had gone with my father to Islington. Were you not left in care of the office, with all sorts of messages ? Act 1 TPIE IRISH POST. 5 O'G. I was ! but I just popped out for a lunch, and forgot all about it, at the moment. By the bye, I forgot something else, too, bad manners to me ! What did she wiy to you you never told me ? GEOBGE. Say to me ! who ? O'G. Who r why the girl you went to see at Islington, to be sure ; Miss Mary Capsicomb. Don't I know you went with the governor on purpose to pop the question to he*r. GEORGE. Pshaw! stuff! O'G. Oh, as much si:uff as you please but you know it's true; didn't you let me into your confidence r GEORGE. Let you in? no you broke into it! opened my letter instead of your own. O'G. By the merest accident; and I apologised as soon as I'd read it ? GEORGE. Apologised yes, before my father, and so let him into the secret. O'G. And didn't he approve of your attachment r GEORGE. By great good luck ; but suppose he hadn't ? O'G. Oh, bother! what's the good of supposing disagree- able things tli at never happened. GEORGE. Well, at all events, Master Terence, you're the last person I should choose for a confidant, and so you'll excuse me telling you anything about the matter. O'G. You're wrong there, depend upon it and you'll lose a great deal by it; for I'm in love myself, and I'll leave you in blissful ignorance of the whole beautiful story. GEORGE. With all my heart; but you'll be sure to blunder it out somehow or other. O'G. Oh, catch me making a blunder in love matters; I'm discreet enough in my indiscretions. GEORGE. Here's the governor coming, you'd better finish the letters for the post. Eider Mr. BARTHOLOMEW LANE, D. R.F. LANE. So you're a pretty fellow, don't you think ? GEORGE. Me, Sir r LANE. No, not you, your cousin there, Master Terence ; my plague ! But there shall be an end of it. I've looked 6 THE IRISH POST Act 1. over a great deal on my sister's account ; but, unless you pay a little more attention, sir, back to Ireland you go, I'm determined. O'G. What's the row, governor : LANE. Don't call me, governor, air. I've told you forty times I don't choose to be called governor ! It's a fami- liarity I don't approve of. I'm your uncle, sir, unfortu- nately. I can't help that. My sister chose to throw her- self away upon a handsome Irishman, without a penny, and I have been saddled with you, sir, as the natural con- sequence. I have tried to make a man of business of you, but it's in vain ; I must give it up, or you'll be the ruin of me? O'G. The ruin of you? Sure, you are joking, my dear sir ; what would I be the ruin of you for ? LANE. Didn't I tell you yesterday, before I went out, to write to Mr. Hardup, and tell him, if he didn't pay me the money he owed me, before twelve o'clock to-day, I should instruct my attorney to commence proceedings ? . O'G. You did, and I did. LANE. You did no such thing, sir ! Didn't I tell you at the same time to write to Alderman Turtle, and acknow- ledge the receipt of 100 which he left here the day before ? O'G. You did; and I did, I tell you. LANE. I did. and you didn't, I tell you. You sent the receipt to llardup, and the threat ci' proceedings to the Alderman, who is in such a rage, he will hear neither apology or explanation. Swears I shall never dine in. his hous^ again. A man who gives the best dinners in London; and to mend the matter, I've been nearly smothered with blessings by that vagabond llardup, who is running about telling every body my noble and deli- cate conduct has saved him and his family from utter ruin. O'G. And isn't that a proud consolation to you ? Sure, a poor man's blessing is worth an alderman's dinner any day. LANE. Terence, do you wish me to knock you down, sir? O'G. That depends upon what's bid for me, sir. I'd be Act 1. THE IRISH POST. 7 a mighty great bargain at the price you'd put me up at. LANE. You impudent rascal ! Don't compel me to kick you out of my house. O'G. I will not, sir ; I'll go as soon as you please, with- out the kick. LANE. George, what am I to do with this fellow r GEORGE. Forgive him this time, sir ; he'll be more care-nil in future won't you, Terence ? O'G. It's impossible to be more careful. I wrote the letters plain enough. It's the confounded covers you've got the fashion of putting 'em in, that makes all the mis- chief. They'd puzzle the Pope, they would ! LANE. Well, sir, I'll forgive you once more ; but mind, it's the last time; the next blunder you make, back you go to Ireland ; or, at least, you don't stay here. So now sit down, sir, and write to Sheriff Capsicomb, that the Clapham and Tooting Grand Junction are doing at three and a half* and that he had better sell whilst he can. O'G. I will, sir. LANE. When you have written it, post it directly. I promised to let him know this morning. George will give you his address, and see if you can manage not to mistake this time. I must run back and try what's to be done with the alderman. To-morrow's a venison day at Fish- monger's Hall, and he's one of the wardens. [Exit D. R. F. O'G. I believe that my uncle would dine with the devil, provided he knew there'd be venison. What's the address, George, of your father-in-law that is to be, Mr. Sheriff' Capsicomb ? GEORGE. High Street, Islington ; but he's got a charm- ing place at Norwood gave 4,000 for it. O'G. Pickles for ever ! But I'm told he's as hot and as sour as his own chilly vinegar. GEORGE. Rather passionate; they say his first wife spoiled his temper. O'G. Then I hope his second will mend it. Did you see her, George ? They say she's a beauty. GEORGE, A very charming woman, and not much older than Mary. 8 THE IRISH POST. Act 1. O'G. More shame for him : George, you devil, you'll be making love to your mother-in-law ! GEOIIGE. AVrite your letters, and don't talk nonsence. (fakes /i is hat. O'G. \Yherc are you going ? GEOIIGE. To the banker's. O'G. Stop ask 'em to honour my cheque for 10,000, and I'll pay 'cm when I come into my property. GEORGE. Pooh, you fool ! [Exit D. it. F. O'G. He's a good fellow, cousin Georgy, but a little soft in the upper story ! Now, let me see if this is all right : " Sir, I am desired by Mr. Bartholomew Lane, to inform you urn, um, um, Clapham and Tooting two- and-a-half sell while you can. Your obedient servant, Terence O'Grady." That's as clear as mud. Now for one of these devils of covers . " To Mr. Sheriff Capsicomb, High Street, Islington." There you are my darling, with a queen's head upon you, and no mistake. [Just as he is going to put tJie note into the envelope, his attention is ar- rested by a L.VDY passing the icindoio.~\ Och, murder ! (drops the envelope.} It can't be! It isn't impossible! (runs to ^vin(low.} I'll give -50, when I get it, if you'll only look this way, ma'am ! She does and it is ! By all the cupids that ever Tommy Moore sung about it's the identical she my Bristol beauty ! The Venus I came over with in the steamer from Cork! What'll I do? Where's my hat? Confusion, I can't find my hat : I'll run without it ! I'll follow her to the world's end ! Oh, the devil ! There's nobody to mind the office : and if the* governor comes back and finds me out, I'll be ruined ent rely ! No matter, lucks all ! Here goes ! (going out to i). R, i\, stops.} Hah ! by the powers, she's gone into Mrs. Lump's, the grocer's, at the corner. If she'll only stay there two or three minutes, I know what I'll do*! (calls.} Here, you chap in the jacket, come here with you ! A BOY runs in at D. n. F. O'G. Are you the boy that wants a sixpence ? BOY. Oh, am't I, that's all? O'G. Then just you stand here, and keep an eye on that Act 1. THE IRISH POST. 9 grocer's shop, at the corner, whilst I write two lines to a lady, in a white bonnet, that's gone into it. If you see her come out, shout like a devil ! BOY. O, won't I, that's all ! O'G. (writes h'iMy.) " Most beautiful of created be- ings ; if you have not forgotten the delightful hours we passed together on board the Bristol steamer, fly to the arms of your anonymous adorer, who has the honour to- subscribe himself eternally yours, Terence O'Grady." (folds the note.'] Now for the sealing wax. Where's the sealing wax? Burn the sealing wax that's gone now! (tossing the tilings about.} Oh, here you are, (puts the note he has written to Mil. CAPSICOMB, into an unstamped en- velope, seals it and runs to the hoy.] Now run, and give that to the lady in the white bonnet, and say the gentle- man waits for an answer. Quick, and I'll give YOU a shilling. BOY. Oh, that's plummy ! [Exit runmna.D.-R.Y. O'G. Faint heart never won a fair lady! If she don't answer, I can't help it. But the boy shall follow her, and find out where she goes to, and all about her. I'll stick to- lier skirts, now I have got a sight of her again, she inay take her oath of it. Sure, she can't have forgotten the delicate attentions I paid her, when she was so mighty queer with the pitching of the steamer, that she'd almost have considered it a personal favour if any one had thrown her overboard. Didn't I give her my own brand v and water, and carry her down to the ladies' cabin, in these faithful arms, as helpless as a baby ? And didn't I miss her in corning ashore, and never gave her an opportunity of expressing her affect innate gratitude ! Oh, murder! Hero he comes back, the young varmint, ready to break his neck. Enter BOY, D. it. p., out of breath. BOY. Sir! sir! O'G. Well, what's your news ? BOY. The lady's compliments, sir, and she'll come over to you directily. O'G. The devil she will ! Hurrah, Terence ! you've done it, you have, you fascinating villain ! Here my young 10 THE IRISH POST. Act I Mercury here's half-a-crown for you, and keep the change. BoV. Oh, thank you, sir ! Oh, half-a-crown ! Oh, crikey ! (runs out, D. R. F., and runs against GEORGE, who enters, D. R. F, GEORGE. Holloa ! why don't you mind where you're running to. (gives the boy a cuff, who runs off.} A raga- muffin ! What was he doing in the office ? O'G. (putting the note into CapsicomUs envelope and sealing it.} Never you mind don't you want to go out again on particular business r GEORGE. I, no what dy'e mean : O'G. My dear fellow, you can't stop here. I'm expect- ing a lady. GEORGE. A lady ! what lady ? O'G. I don't know; don't ask me any questions, for I'm not in a state to give you a rational answer. (walks arout flourishing note in an excited manner. GEORGE. So it seems. Have you written all your letters ? O'G. I have ; don't bother me. GEORGE. Then post them, before you forget it. O'G. How the devil can I post them till the porter comes in ? GEORGE. Well, here he is then. Enter JOHN, D. R. F., with a packet. JOHN, (gives packet.'} The parties warn't at home, sir, and I had to wait. GEORGE. Well, make hnste, and take Mr. O'Grady's letters to the post. (oj)e?is packet. } JOHN. Yes, sir. (goes to Terence's desk.} These, sir; O'G. These, sir ; why, to be sure, sir ? Be off with you. [JExit JOHN, D. R. F.] And you, George, my dear boy, you wouldn't spoil sport ? (crams the note he has in his hand unconsciously into his pocket. GEORGE. Oh, this lady, then is O'G. To be sure she is. If you'll only just step up stairs for five minutes. Act 1. THE IRISH TOST. 11 MRS. CAPSICOMB appears, at r>. R. F. Here she is ! George ! If you wouldn't compel ine to do something desperate GEORGE. Just let me have one peep. MRS. CAPSICOMB advances. (changes his tone.*} Poh what a fool you are, Terence, it's Mrs. Capsicomb ! O'G. (thunderstruck.'] Mrs. Capsicomb! MRS. C. How do you do, George. Is your father at home ? GEORGE. He is not, my dear madam, but I expect him directly. MRS. C. I'll wait, then, if you please, ior I appointed to meet Mr. Capsicomb and Mary here. GEORGE. Mary! Is Mary coming? MRS. C. (smiling.} Yes, Mary is coming with her father ; you have no particular objection to such an ar- rangement, I suppose ? GEORGE. Oh, my dear Mrs. Capsicomb! MRS. C. We want your father and you to dine with us, to-day, at Norwood, if you are disengaged. GEORGE. We shall be too happy. MRS. C. By the bye, who is Mr. Terence O'Grady ? O'G. (aside.} Oh, murther! GEORGE. Terence ? my cousin ; he is in the office here. Terence, Mrs. Capsicomb. (introduces them. O'G. (bows awkwardly.) Madam, (aside.) what'll she say to me ? MRS. C. (smiUny.} You sent a note to me, just now, by mistake, I presume. O'G. Entirely, madam, by mistake. If you'll just have the kindness to (making signs to re t urn the letter. MRS. C. To give it to my husband ; certainly. O'G. By no manner of means, madam. Sure, when you see it's a mistake you wouldn't be going to get me into trouble by MRS. C. Trouble ! Oh, certainly not, if GEORGE. What, another blunder, Terence ? Oh, then I must also request, my dear Mrs. Capsicomb, to take pity 12 THE IRISH POST. Act 1. on him, whatever it is, for he is in. sad disgrace with my father already. MRS. C. Don't say another word, I beg. There is not the slightest necessity for my taking any notice of it. Mr. Capsicomb will be here in a few minues, himself, and Mr. Q'Grady can then speak to him on the subject. O'G. (aside.} Speak to him on the subject! What the devil does she mean by that ? Oh, I see ; bless the darling She's doing it to blind Master Georgy. MRS. C. But, surely, I have had the pleasure of meeting you before, Mr. O'Grady. I've a faint recollection O'G. I hrld the supreme felicity, madam, of crossing the water with you, from Cork to Bristol. MRS. C. Of course, I remember now, perfectly. I'm indebted to you for some very kind attentions ; but really, I was so very unwell the whole of the passage, that I may be exc-used not immediately recognising O'G. ( aside.} Long life to her; she's doing it beauti- fully. MRS. C. I shall be delighted to make you and Mr. Cap- sleomb acquainted. I have often spoken to him of the civility I had received from a stranger on board the packet, and regretted that in the confusion of landing I bad not the opportunity of acknowledging my obligations to him. O'G. Obligations ! 'Foil my honour and conscience, madam, the boot's on the other leg. (aside.} Delighted to introduce me to her husband. Poor Cnpsicomb ! I'm sorry for him ; Terence, you're a imirthoring villain, there's no other name for you. But what's to be done if the women will fling themselves at your ibct in this manner. GKORGE. Here's Mr. Capsicomb, with Mary and my father. Jltiter MR. LANE, SHERIFF CAPSICOMB, and MARY. D. R. F. LANE. Hah! Mrs. Capsicomb : glad to see you. Here's the Sheriff met him just at the corner of the street Wanted to see him. Terence, you needn't take that letter now. Act 2. THE IRISH POST. 13 O'G. It's gone, sir. LANE. Well, it don't signify. MRS. C. No, no, it's all perfectly right, (to CAPSICOMB.) My dear, you must let me introduce Mr. O'Grady to you. This is the young gentleman who was so civil to me on board the steamer. LANE. What, Terence ! CAPS. Hah, indeed. Oh, your most obedient, young man. Any civility shown to this lady, is a favour to me. In Mr. Lane's office, eh ? MRS. C. Mr. O'Grady is Mr. Lane's nephew. CAPS. Nephew ! Oh, your nephew eh ? (to LANE.) LANE. Yes ; Terence is the son of my sister Martha ; she married a captain of the Irish Dragoons, on half-pay, and O'G. And I'm what my uncle calls the natural con- sequence. CAPS. Ha, ha! Irish eh? humph. Sad fellows, Irish. Play the devil with the women. Pretty story this morning about one of your countrymen. Ruined the do- mestic happiness of one of the first drysalters in the City of London, not a hundred miles from Thames-street ! Never mention names. Be all in the papers to-morrow ! Wife remarkably fine woman ! Only met the fellow at the Polish Ball, at the Mansion-house, last week. LANE. Alarming rapidity. O'G. Paddy's a mighty fine boy, and that's the truth of it. CAPS. Oh, if I was the husband, I'd have some awful vengeance. I don't know what ; but something terrific. O'G. You'd call him out. CAPS. Call him out ! An Irishman ! Not a bit of it. He'd be too happy to come. No, no ; I wouldn't give liira a chance. And as to the wife, I'd I'd oh, I'd MRS. C. No doubt, and serve him right, I dare say. But you arc not the husband, my dear, and so you needn't -work yourself up into such a fury. CJLPS. Very true, my love. No, I am not the husband, and I thank my stars, that with such a model of a wife, it is impossible I should be the husband ! For I feel I should forget my duty as a magistrate of this great city, and be 14 THE IRISH POST. Act 2 guilty of some desperate act, which might bring me to the bar of the Old Bailey. MRS. C. Lord, my love, don't say such horrid things, I beg. MARY. Dear papa, you quite make me shudder. O'G. f aside.} Does the monster suspect, and mean that as a hint, I'd like to know ? LANE, {crosses to L.J Come, come, let us change the conversation. I want to speak to you, sheriff, on a matter of business ; just step into my room. Mrs. Capsicomb and niss Mary will, perhaps, walk up into the drawing-room. George, show the way. \_Exit\viih CAPSICOMB, D. 2. E. L. GEORGE. Yes, sir, certainly ! Mrs. Capsicomb, may I have the honour. MRS. C. Oh, take Mary, pray, I know you'd rather. I'll follow you. [Exit GEORGE and MARY, i>. 2 E. R. ; as MRS CAPSICOMB is following, TERENCE stops her. O'G. Madam! Mrs. Capsicomb ! one moment ! only say that you iorgive and pity poor Terence O'Grady. MRS. C. Forgive and pity you ! What for ? O'G. What for ? and is it with your own beautiful lips you can ask me that question, after reading the note I sent you, and concealing it, like an angel, as you are, from your brute of a husband. MRS.C. Sir? O'G. The monster that has torn from me the woman I adore, and sundered two loving hearts that were made for one another. MRS. C. Mr. O'Grady, to whom can you possibly allude ? My husband tore you from the woman you adore ! had you unfortunately, then, fixed your affections upon Miss Capsicomb ? O'G. Miss Capsicomb ! Devil a bit ! it was upon Mrs. Capsicomb, bad luck to the man that made you so, when you might have been Mrs. Terence O'Grady, and the mother of a race of Irish gentlemen instead of a shop full of dirty little pickles. MRS". C. Are you crazy, sir or to what am I to attribute this extraordinary and offensive declaratio n ? O'G. Offensive! When I tell you my intentions were Act. 1. THE IRISH POST. 15 honourable. That when I sent you that note, full of pas- sionate tenderness, I had no more idea of your being Mrs. Capsicomb, than I had of your being the Pope of Rome. MRS. C. Passionate tenderness ! Mr. O'Grady you must have taken leave of your senses ! What note did you ever send to me, except this one, without an address, but evidently intended for Mr. Capsieomb : O'G. Mr. Capsicomb ? MRS. C. (reads.} " Sir, I am desired by Mr. Lane, to informed you that Clapham and Tooting are doing at two and a half " O'G. Stop! Stop! That's not the note at all. MRS. C. It is signed Terence O'Grady ; and some little boy brought it to me, at Mrs. Lump's, from a gentleman in this house. O'G. It's a mistake, it's a mistake. MRS. C. Well, you told me so before, and at your own request I did not hand it to Mr. Capsicomb. O'G. It was the other note. MRS. C. What other note-? O'G. Why, the oh! oh, murther! murther! MRS. C. Mercy upon me, what's the matter ? Enter MR. LANE and CAPSICOMB, D. 2 E. L. GEORGE and MARY, i>. 2 E. R. LANE. What in the world's happened? GEORGE, j Somebody called murder ! and MARY. ) y CAPS. Mrs. Capsicomb, you are agitated! Anything wrong? O'G. (aside to her.} Silence, or you're a lost woman! MRS. C. (aside.} What can he mean? I'm frightened out of my life ! CAPS, (crosses to her.} Mrs. Capsicomb, my dear, I ask you, is there anything wrong ? MRS. C. I don't know, indeed? Ask Mr. O'Grady; I CAPS. Mr. O'Grady ? LANE. Terence, you rascal, why don't you speak ? What made you howl out in that manner ? Is the Bank broke, or the Lord MayoS dead, or the house on fire ? O'G. Yes, sir ! No, sir ! I'll go and enquire, sir ! 16 THE IEISH POST. Act. 1. CA.?s.(perceiving the fe//erMns. CAPSICOMB 7*as druppedin be?- fright.'] A letter: Perhaps this may explain! (looks suspiciously, first at MRS. CAPSICOMB and then at O'GRADY. O'G. (aside.} The green-eyed monster ! CAPS, (reads.) " Sir, I am directed by Mr. Bartholomew Lane, to inform you that Clapham and Tooting " LANE. Why that's the letter I told him to write to you, sheriff'; and that you told me you'd sent, (to TERENCE.) O'G. And so I had, sir. That is to say, I thought sir GEORGE. Oh, my dear father, I find I can explain this mystery; Terence, evidently, was under the impression that he had posted this letter, l and finding he had not O'G. That's it exactly, sir. (aside.) For I've posted the other, directed to her husband, and we're ruined and un- done, the both of us. LANE. Is that all ? It's well it's no worse, you blunder- ing booby. I thought Consols had dropped to sixty, at least. CAPS. Humph very odd, call murder, because GEORGE. Oh, sir, it was only murder in Irish. But no doubt it frightened Mrs. Capsicomb. LANE, The fact is, Mr, Terence knew that I had pro- mised to send him packing the next blunder he made, ami I've a great mind ; for although this luckily happens to be a matter of no consequence O'G. (aside.) No consequence ! LANE. It might have been of great importance a question of life and death. O'G. (aside.) It is a question of life and death. LANE. It would have been just the same to that block- head. CAPS. Well, well, we must be going. Come, my dear, come Mary. You'll dine with us, to-day, Mr. Lane, and you, George at five precisely ; and then we'll fix the wed ding-day, eh ? (shakes hands.) LANE. Ay, ay, we'll be punctual, sheriff. Good morning, Mrs. Capsicomb ; dear me, you look very pale still. I'm sorry my stupid nephew has frightened you so. Act. 1. THE IRISH POST. 17 MRS. C. Oh, nonsense, it -was only for a moment, I ( 'aside.) What has that foolish young man done ? CAPS, (impatiently.} Now, my dear! Good morning, Mr. Terence O'Grady ! (sneerinyly .} [Exit CAPSICOMB, MRS. CAFSICOMB, an d MARY, D. R.F. O'G (aside.'] The Hyaena ! I could strangle him. And to think that he may revenge himself upon that innocent darling. What will I do : What will I do ? (throws himself despairingly on the chair. GEORGE. Terence. LANE. What's the matter now ? GEORGE. Poor fellow ! he's so sorry for what he's done. O'G. You may say that. Ha! I never thought of it. (calls.') John ! John ! (rings bell violent/!/ and breaks the handle.") LANE. The boy's mad. There, he's broken the bell, now. GEORGE. Terence, Terence are you frantic ? O'G. I am John ! John ! GEORGE. What d'ye want with John ? He's out; gone to the post. O'G. To the post. Ar j you sure of it. Did you see him go ? GEORGE. Of course I did ; didn't you give him the let- ters yourself. O'G. I did, I did ; and the villain took 'eni ! If there's murther, he's an accessory LANE. Murder again, Terence, what have you done ? O'G. Done ! I have compromised the honour of an innocent female, and there may be murder, I tell you. The old pickle merchant would poison the beautiful crea- ture as soon as look at her. But he shan't live to do it. If any body's to be hanged, I'm the man. LANE. Pickle merchant ! Good gracious ! Compromised the honour GEORGE. Are you speaking of Mrs. Capsicomb? Enter JOHN, D. R. F. O'G. (rushing at him.) Ha! the letters, the letters, you thief of the world ! JOHN. Lord, sir, what letters, what d'ye mean ? 18 THE IRISH POST. Act 2. O'G. The letters you took to the post, what did you do with, them ? JOHX. Why put 'em in the post, of course, sir. O'G. Where : What post, speak, (shakes him.} JOHX. Oh, Lord, sir. the grocer's, at the corner, Mrs. Lump's, sir. O'G. Mrs. Lump's (flinging 1dm off.} Where's my hat. &GtoKGE. } Terence! Terence! O'G. Where's my hat? (sees Mr Lane's, and snatches it up. LA.XE. That's mine, my best. O'G. I'll have my letter again if I die for't. (cramming the hat on his head, and rushing out D. s. P., knocking over JOHN.) LA.XE. Confound it ; my best hat. Terence John George ! I said it I know it ! that boy will be the death of me. (sinks in chair.) END OF ACT THE FIRST. ACT II. SCENE. A Grocer's Shop. Counting -house door IL. 2. E. Door in flat n. Door R. 2. E. Window, and street seen through. Mrs. LUMP discovered at her books, L.,a MAX putting parcels into basket. MRS. L. (entering the goods.} Six black, Mrs. Brown. MAN. Right. MRS. L. Three green, Mrs. Brown. MAX. Right. Miis. L. Three sultanas, Mr. Turk ; one loaf, Mr. Shortbread ; six moist, Mrs. Sandlove ; two Isinglass, Miss Vane. MAX. Ri.