Sir W. Carry him off this instant. Begone!
{The servants carry off CHRISTY GALLAGHER, while he sings, to the tune of “One bottle more,”
“Oh, give me but whiskey, continted I’ll sing,
Hibernia for ever, and God save the king!”
{Miss GALLAGHER directs and expedites her father’s retreat.
Clara. Shame! shame! Is this the tenant I have chosen?
Miss G. Indeed, and indeed, then, Miss O’Hara, I often preach to him, but there’s no use in life preaching to him—as good preaching to the winds! for, drunk or sober, he has an answer ready at all points. It is not wit he wants, sir.
Sir W. And he is happy in having a daughter, who knows how to make the best of his faults, I see. What an excellent landlord he will be for this new inn!
Miss G. Oh, certainly, sir—only it’s being St. Patrick’s night, he would be more inexcusable; and as to the new inn, plase Heaven! he shall get no pace on earth till he takes an oath afore the priest against spirits, good or bad, for a twil’month to come, before ever I trust a foot of his in the new inn.
Clara. But, ma’am, from your own appearance, I should apprehend that you would not be suited to the business yourself—I should suppose you would think it beneath you to keep an inn.
Miss G. Why, ma’am—why, sir—you know when it is called an hotel, it’s another thing; and I’m sure I’ve a great regard for the family, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to oblige Miss O’Hara.