Julia. Yet, tarry here a while, till I prepare the means of our going forth. Join me a few minutes hence in the hall, O'Carrol.
And, Fortune, frown not on a poor weak woman!
Who, if she fail in this, her last, sad struggle,
Is so surrounded by a sea of grief
That she must sink for ever!
[Exit.
O'Carrol. And, sink or swim, I'll to the bottom along with you.—Och! what a sad thing it is to see sorrow wet the sweet cheeks of a woman! Faith, now, I can't make out that same crying, for the life of me. My sorrow is always of a dry sort; that gives me a sore throat, without ever-troubling my eyes about the business. The camp! Well, with all my heart: it won't be the first time I have been present at a bit of a bustle.
SONG.—O'CARROL.
When I was at home, I was merry and frisky;