Sir Pat. O no, Madam, it would never do; the Irishmen would never make good Singers.
Har. Why so, Sir?
Sir Pat. Lord, Madam, as soon as ever they would come to England, the English Ladies would be so very fond of them that it would spoil their Voices—besides, Madam, they are not so well qualified for it as the Italians.
Har. We are generally speaking very fond of the Irish Gentlemen to be sure, but there is no avoiding it,—they have so much Wit and Assurance and are such agreeable handsome Fellows.
Sir Pat. O Lord, Madam, we Gentlemen of Ireland look upon ourselves to be the handsomest men in England.
Heart. Then you are an Irish Man, Sir?
Sir Pat. An Irish Man,—poh, what the Devil shall I say now? (Aside) No my Life, I am no Irishman at all, not I upon my Honour—but my Mother was one—and so I call that my Country sometimes out of a Joke—that's all—I an Irishman—no, no—no, I'faith you may know by my Tongue that I am no Irishman.
Har. O then it is your Mother that was an Irishman?
Sir Pat. Yes, Madam, she was born and bred in Ireland all the Days of her Life, but she was educated in England.
Heart. Ha, ha, ha, this is more than one in Reason could have expected. This Fellow is more diverting and more blundering than his Countryman in the Committee. [Aside]