Rory. Just as much. ’Twas all a mistake. So now don’t you go and make a mistake into a misunderstanding. It was I made every word of the song out o’ the face [155]—that about the back that never was bent, and the ancestors of the oyster, and all. He did not waste a word of it; upon my conscience, I wrote it all—though I’ll engage you didn’t think I could write a good thing. (Lord John turns away.) I’m telling you the truth, and not a word of a lie, and yet you won’t believe me.
Lord J. You will excuse me, sir, if I cannot believe two contradictory assertions within two minutes. Mr. Talbot, I thank you (going).
(Rory tries to stop Lord John from going, but cannot.—Exit Lord John.)
Rory. Well, if he will go, let him go then, and much good may it do him. Nay, but don’t you go too.
Talb. O Rory, what have you done?—(Talbot runs after Lord J.) Hear me, my lord.
(Exit Talbot.)
Rory. Hear him! hear him! hear him!—Well, I’m point blank mad with myself for making this blunder; but how could I help it? As sure as ever I am meaning to do the best thing on earth, it turns out the worst.
Enter a party of lads, huzzaing.
Rory (joins.) Huzza! huzza!—Who, pray, are ye huzzaing for?
1st Boy. Wheeler! Wheeler for ever! huzza!