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Published by aravindpunna

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Published by: aravindpunna on Mar 20, 2013
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The Rose, Thistle, and Shamrock Dramatis Personae
MEN.SIR WILLIAM HAMDEN . . . An Elderly English Gentleman.CHRISTY GALLAGHER . . . . Landlord of an Irish village inn.MR. ANDREW HOPE . . . . . A Drum-major in a Scotch regiment.OWEN LARKEN . . . . . . . The Son of the Widow Larken--a Boy of about fifteen.GILBERT . . . . . . . . . An English Servant of Sir William Hamden.WOMEN.MISS O'HARA . . . . . . . A young Heiress--Niece of Sir William Hamden.MISS FLORINDA GALLAGHER . Daughter of Christy Gallagher.THE WIDOW LARKEN . . . . Mother of Owen and of Mabel.MABEL LARKEN . . . . . . Daughter of the Widow Larken.BIDDY DOYLE . . . . . . . Maid of the Inn.Band of a Regiment.SCENE.--The Village of Bannow, in Ireland.
Act I
SCENE I.A Dressing-Room in Bannow-Castle, in Ireland.Enter Sir WILLIAM HAMDEN, in his morning-gown.
Sir W. Every thing precisely in order, even in Ireland!--laid, I do believe, at the verysame angle at which they used to be placed on my own dressing-table, at Hamden-place,in Kent. Exact Gilbert! most punctual of valet de chambres!--and a young fellow, as he is,too! It is admirable!--Ay, though he looks as if he were made of wood, and moves like anautomaton, he has a warm heart, and a true English spirit--true-born English every inch of him. I remember him, when first I saw him ten years ago at his father's, Farmer Ashfield's, at the harvest-home; there was Gilbert in all his glory, seated on the top of ahay-rick, singing,
"Then sing in praise of men of Kent,So loyal, brave, and free;Of Britain's race, if one surpass,A man of Kent is he!"
How he brought himself to quit the men of Kent to come to Ireland with me is wonderful.However, now he is here, I hope he is tolerably happy: I must ask the question in directterms; for Gilbert would never speak till spoken to, let him feel what he might.Sir W. (calls) Gilbert!--Gilbert!Enter GILBERT.Gilb. Here, sir.Sir W. Gilbert, now you have been in Ireland some weeks, I hope you are not unhappy.Gilb. No, sir, thank you, sir.Sir W. But are you happy, man?Gilb. Yes, sir, thank you, sir.[GILBERT retires, and seems busy arranging his master's clothes: Sir WILLIAMcontinues dressing.Sir W. (aside) Yes, sir, thank you, sir. As dry as a chip--sparing of his words, as if theywere his last. And the fellow can talk if he would--has humour, too, if one could get itout; and eloquence, could I but touch the right string, the heartstring. I'll try again.(Aloud) Gilbert!Gilb. Yes, sir. (Comes forward respectfully.)Sir W. Pray what regiment was it that was passing yesterday through the village of Bannow?
Gilb. I do not know, indeed, sir.Sir W. That is to say, you saw they were Highlanders, and that was enough for you--youare not fond of the Scotch, Gilbert?Gilb. No, sir, I can't say as I be.Sir W. But, Gilbert, for my sake you must conquer this prejudice. I have many Scotchfriends whom I shall go to visit one of these days--excellent friends they are!Gilb. Are they, sir? If so be you found them so, I will do my best, I'm sure.Sir W. Then pray go down to the inn here, and inquire if any of the Scotch officers arethere.Gilb. I will, sir. I heard say the officers went off this morning.Sir W. Then you need not go to inquire for them.Gilb. No, sir. Only as I heard say, the drum-major and band is to stay a few days inBannow, on account of their wanting to enlist a new bugle-boy. I was a thinking, if so be,sir, you thought well of it, on account you like these Scotch, I'd better to step down, andsee how the men be as to being comfortable.Sir W. That's right, do. Pray, have they tolerable accommodations at the inn in thisvillage?Gilb. (smiling) I can't say much for that, sir.Sir W. (aside) Now I shall set him going. (Aloud) What, the inn here is not like one of our English inns on the Bath road?Gilb. (suppressing a laugh) Bath road! Bless you, sir, it's no more like an inn on the Bathroad, nor on any road, cross or by-road whatsomdever, as ever I seed in England. Nomore like--no more like than nothing at all, sir!Sir W. What sort of a place is it, then?Gilb. Why, sir, I'd be ashamed almost to tell you. Why, sir, I never seed such a place tocall an inn, in all my born days afore. First and foremost, sir, there's the pig is in and outof the kitchen all day long, and next the calf has what they call the run of the kitchen; sowhat with them brute beasts, and the poultry that has no coop, and is always under one'sfeet, or over one's head, the kitchen is no place for a Christian, even to eat his bread andcheese in.Sir W. Well, so much for the kitchen. But the parlour--they have a parlour, I suppose?

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