Honor. Oh! father dear—more you will say (shaking his stick gently). Look up at me, and remember the promise you gave me, when Catty should be rasonable—and is not she rasonable now?
Old McB. I did not hear a word from her about the bog of Ballynascraw.
Catty. Is it the pitiful bit?—No more about it! Make crame cheeses of it—what care I? ‘Twas only for pride I stood out—not that I’m thinking of now!
Old McB. Well, then, miracles will never cease! here’s one in your favour, Honor; so take her, Randal, fortune and all—a wife of five hundred.
Randal. (kneeling) Oh! happiest of men I am this minute.
Catty. I the same, if she had not a pinny in the world.
Mr. Carv. Happiest of men!—Don’t kneel or go in to ecstasies now, I beg, till I know the rationale of this. Was not I consulted?—did not I give my opinion and advice in favour of another?
Old McB. You was—you did, plase your honour, and I beg your honour’s pardon, and Mr. Counsellor O’Blaney’s.
Mr. Carv. And did not you give your consent?—I must think him a very ill-used person.
Old McB. I gave my consint only in case he could win hers, plase your honour, and he could not—and I could not break my own daughter’s heart, and I beg your honour’s pardon.