Miss G. This is the way with officers continually—passing themselves for bachelors.
Christy. Then, Florry, we’d best recommend it to the drum-major the next town he’d go into, to put up an advertisement in capitals on his cap, warning all women whom it may consarn, that he is a married man.
Miss G. ‘Tis no consarn of mine, I’ll assure you, sir, at any rate; for I should scorn to think of a Scotchman any way. And what’s a drum-major, after all? {Exit, in a passion.
Christy. Bo boo! bo boo! bo boo! there’s a tantarara now; but never mind her, she takes them tantarums by turns. Now depend upon it, Mr. Gilbert, it’s love that’s at the bottom of it all, clane and clear.
Gilb. It’s very like, sir—I can’t say.
Christy. Oh, but I can say—I know her, egg and bird. The thing is, she’s mad with you, and that has set her all through other.—But we’ll finish our tumbler of punch. {Draws forwards the table, and sets chairs.
Gilb. (aside) Egg and bird!—mad! All through other!—Confound me if I understand one word the man is saying; but I will make him understand me, if he can understand plain English.
Mr. H. (aside) I’ll stand by and see fair play. I have my own thought.
Gilb. Now, Mr. ——, to be plain with you at once—here’s fifty guineas in gold, and if you will take them, and give me up the promise you have got of the new inn, you shall be welcome. That’s all I have to say, if I was to talk till Christmas—and fewest words is best in matters of business.
Christy. Fifty guineas in gold!—Don’t part with a guinea of them, man, put ‘em up again. You shall have the new inn without a word more, and into the bargain my good-will and my daughter—and you’re a jantleman, and can’t say no to that, any way.