O’Bla. (quick brogue) Oh, my best friend, Matthew McBride, is it you, dear? Then here’s Gerald O’Blaney, always at your sarvice. But shake hands; for of all men in Ireland, you are the man I was aching to lay my eyes on. And in the fair did ye happen to meet Carver of Bob’s Fort?
Old McB. (speaking very slowly) Ay. did I—and he was a-talking to me, and I was a-talking to him—and he’s a very good gentleman, Mr. Carver of Bob’s Fort—so he is—and a gentleman that knows how things should be; and he has been giving of me, Mr. O’Blaney, a great account of you, and how you’re thriving in the world—and so as that.
O’Bla. Nobody should know that better than Mr. Carver of Bob’s Fort—he knows all my affairs. He is an undeniable honest gentleman, for whom I profess the highest regard.
Old McB. Why then he has a great opinion of you too, counsellor—for he has been advising of, and telling of me, O’Blaney, of your proposhal, sir—and very sinsible I am of the honour done by you to our family, sir—and condescension to the likes of us—though, to be sure, Honor McBride, though she is my daughter, is a match for any man.
O’Bla. Is a match for a prince—a Prince Ragent even. So no more about condescension, my good Matthew, for love livels all distinctions.
Old McB. That’s very pretty of you to say so, sir; and I’ll repeat it to Honor.
O’Bla. Cupid is the great liveller, after all, and the only democrat Daity on earth I’d bow to—for I know you are no democrat, Mr. McBride, but quite and clane the contrary way.
Old McB. Quite and clane and stiff, I thank my God; and I’m glad, in spite of the vowel before your name, Mr. O’Blaney, to hear you are of the same kidney.
O’Bla. I’m happy to find myself agreeable to you, sir.
Old McB. But, however agreeable to me, as I won’t deny, it might be, sir, to see my girl made into a gentlewoman by marriage, I must observe to you—