Clara. Yes, Mabel Larken, that girl with the sweet modest countenance—and her mother, that respectable-looking woman; and her brother, I see, is here, that boy with the quick, intelligent eyes. I know all the family—know them all to be good; and these were the people I might have served! Oh, fool! fool!
Sir W. Well, well, well, ‘tis over now, my dear Clara—you will be wiser another time. Come, Mr. Hope, give us a little flattery, to put us in good-humour with ourselves.
{The band prelude; but just as they begin, Sir WILLIAM sees CHRISTY, who is coming in softly, holding back the skirts of his coat.—Sir WILLIAM in a loud voice exclaims,
Turn out that man! How dare you return to interrupt us, sir? Turn out that man!
Christy. (falling on his knees) Oh! plase your honour, I beg your pardon for one minute: only just give me lave to insense your honour’s honour. I’m not the same man at all.
Sir W. Stand up, stand up—an Englishman cannot bear to see a man kneel to him. Stand up, pray, if you can.
Christy. Then I can, plase your honour (rises), since I got a shock.
Clara. What shock? What do you mean?
Christy. Oh, nothing in life, miss, that need consarn you—only a fall I got from my horse, which the child they set to lead me would put me up upon, and it come down and kilt me; for it wasn’t a proper horse for an unfortunate man like me, that was overtaken, as I was then; and it’s well but I got a kick of the baast.
Sir W. Do you say you were kicked by a horse?