Sir W. Then you acknowledge you bought it?
Christy. What harm, plase your honour? And would not I have a right to buy what pleases me—and when bought and ped for isn’t it mine in law and right? But I am mighty unlucky this night. So, come along, Florry—we are worsted see! No use to be standing here longer, the laughing-stock of all that’s in it—Ferrinafad.
Miss G. Murder! Father, then here’s all you done for me, by your lies and your whiskey! I’ll go straight from ye, and lodge with Mrs. Mulrooney. Biddy, what’s that you’re grinning at? Plase to walk home out of that.
Biddy. Miss Florinda, I am partly engaged to dance; but I won’t be laving you in your downfall: so here’s your cloak—and lane on me.
Widow. Why, then, Biddy, we’ll never forget you in our prosperity.
Mabel and Owen. Never, never. You’re a good girl, Biddy.
{Exeunt Miss GALLAGHER, BIDDY, and CHRISTY.
Clara. I am glad they are gone.
Sir W. I congratulate you, my dear niece, upon having got rid of tenants who would have disgraced your choice.
Clara. These (turning to OWEN, MABEL, and her mother,) these will do honour to it. My written promise was to grant the poet’s petition. Owen, you are the poet—what is your petition?