Chapter 10

_A large hall in Eton College_—_A staircase at the end_—_Eton lads_, _dressed in their Montem Dresses in the Scene_—_In front_, WHEELER (_dressed as Captain_), BURSAL _and_ FINSBURY.

_Fins._ I give you infinite credit, Mr. Wheeler, for this dress.

_Burs._ _Infinite credit_! Why, he’ll have no objection to that—hey, Wheeler? But I thought Finsbury knew you too well to give you credit for anything.

_Fins._ You are pleased to be pleasant, sir. Mr. Wheeler knows, in that sense of the word, it is out of my power to give him credit, and I’m sure he would not ask it.

_Wheel._ (_aside_). O, Bursal, pay him, and I’ll pay you to-morrow.

_Burs._ Now, if you weren’t to be captain after all, Wheeler, what a pretty figure you’d cut. Ha! ha! ha!—Hey?

_Wheel._ Oh, I am as sure of being captain as of being alive. (_Aside_.) Do pay for me, now, there’s a good, dear fellow, before _they_ (_looking back_) come up.

_Burs._ (_aside_). I love to make him lick the dust. (_Aloud_.) Hollo! here’s Finsbury waiting to be paid, lads. (_To the lads who are in the back scene_.) Who has paid, and who has not paid, I say?

(_The lads come forward, and several exclaim at once_,) I’ve paid! I’ve paid!

_Enter_ LORD JOHN _and_ RORY O’RYAN.

_Rory_. Oh, King of Fashion, how fine we are! Why, now, to look at ye all one might fancy one’s self at the playhouse at once, or at a fancy ball in dear little Dublin. Come, strike up a dance.

_Burs._ Pshaw! Wherever you come, Rory O’Ryan, no one else can be heard. Who has paid, and who has not paid, I say?

_Several Boys exclaim_. We’ve all paid.

1_st_ _Boy_. I’ve not paid, but here’s my money.

_Several Boys_. We have not paid, but here’s our money.

6_th_ _Boy_. Order there, I am marshal. All that have paid march off to the staircase, and take your seats there, one by one. March!

(_As they march by_, _one by one_, _so as to display their dresses_, _Mr. Finsbury bows_, _and says_,)

A thousand thanks, gentlemen. Thank you, gentlemen. Thanks, gentlemen. The finest sight ever I saw out of Lon’on.

_Rory_, _as each lad passes_, _catches his arm_, Are you a Talbot_ite_ or a Wheeler_ite_? _To each who answers_ “A Wheelerite,” _Rory replies_, “Phoo! dance off, then. Go to the devil and shake yourself.” {167} Each who answers “A Talbotite,” _Rory shakes by the hand violently_, _singing_,

“Talbot, oh, Talbot’s the dog for Rory.”

_When they have almost all passed_, _Lord John says_, _But where can Mr. Talbot be all this time_?

_Burs._ Who knows? Who cares?

_Wheel._ A pretty electioneerer! (Aside to Bursal.) Finsbury’s waiting to be paid.

_Lord J._ You don’t wait for me, Mr. Finsbury. You know, I have settled with you.

_Fins._ Yes, my lord—yes. Many thanks: and I have left your lordship’s dress here, and everybody’s dress, I believe, as bespoke.

_Burs._ Here, Finsbury, is the money for Wheeler, who, between you and me, is as poor as a rat.

_Wheeler_ (_affecting to laugh_). Well, I hope I shall be as rich as a Jew to-morrow. (_Bursal counts money_, _in an ostentatious manner_, _into Finsbury’s hand_.)

_Fins._ A thousand thanks for all favours.

_Rory_. You will be kind enough to _lave_ Mr. Talbot’s dress with me, Mr. Finsbury, for I’m a friend.

_Fins._ Indubitably, sir: but the misfortune is—he! he! he!—Mr. Talbot, sir, has bespoke no dress. Your servant, gentlemen.

(_Exit Finsbury_.)

_Burs._ So your friend Mr. Talbot could not afford to bespeak a dress—(_Bursal and Wheeler laugh insolently_.) How comes that, I wonder?

_Lord J._ If I’m not mistaken, here comes Talbot to answer for himself.

_Rory_. But who, in the name of St. Patrick, has he along with him?

_Enter_ TALBOT _and_ LANDLORD.

_Talb._ Come in along with us, Farmer Hearty—come in.

(_Whilst the Farmer comes in_, _the boys who were sitting on the stairs_, _rise and exclaim_,)

Whom have we here? What now? Come down, lads; here’s more fun.

_Rory_. What’s here, Talbot?

_Talb._ An honest farmer, and a good natured landlord, who would come here along with me to speak—

_Farm._ (_interrupting_). To speak the truth—(_strikes his stick on the ground_).

_Landlord_ (_unbuttoning his waistcoat_). But I am so hot—so short-winded, that (_panting and puffing_)—that for the soul and body of me, I cannot say what I have got for to say.

_Rory_. ’Faith, now, the more short winded a story, the better, to my fancy.

_Burs._ Wheeler, what’s the matter, man? you look as if your under jaw was broke.

_Farm._ The matter is, young gentlemen, that there was once upon a time a fine, bay hunter.

_Wheel._ (_squeezing up to Talbot_, _aside_). Don’t expose me, don’t let him tell. (_To the Farmer_.) I’ll pay for the corn I spoiled. (_To the Landlord_.) I’ll pay for the horse.

_Farm._ I does not want to be paid for my corn. The short of it is, young gentlemen, this ’un here, in the fine thing-em-bobs (pointing to Wheeler), is a shabby fellow; he went and spoiled Master Newington’s best hunter.

_Land._ (_panting_). Ruinationed him! ruinationed him!

_Rory_. But was that all the shabbiness? Now I might, or any of us might, have had such an accident as that. I suppose he paid the gentleman for the horse, or will do so, in good time.

_Land._ (_holding his sides_). Oh, that I had but a little breath in this body o’ mine to speak all—speak on, Farmer.

_Farm._ (_striking his stick on the floor_). Oons, sir, when a man’s put out, he can’t go on with his story.

_Omnes_. Be quiet, Rory—hush!

(_Rory puts his finger on his lips_.)

_Farm._ Why, sir, I was a-going to tell you the shabbiness—why, sir, he did not pay the landlord, here, for the horse; but he goes and says to the landlord, here—“Mr. Talbot had your horse on the self-same day; ’twas he did the damage; ’tis from he you must get your money.” So Mr. Talbot, here, who is another sort of a gentleman (though he has not so fine a coat) would not see a man at a loss, that could not afford it; and not knowing which of ’em it was that spoiled the horse, goes, when he finds the other would not pay a farthing, and pays all.

_Rory_ (_rubbing his hands_). There’s Talbot for ye. And, now, gentlemen (_to Wheeler and Bursal_), you guess the _rason_, as I do, I suppose, why he bespoke no dress; he had not money enough to be fine—and honest, too. You are very fine, Mr. Wheeler, to do you justice.

_Lord J._ Pray, Mr. O’Ryan, let the farmer go on; he has more to say. How did you find out, pray, my good friend, that it was not Talbot who spoiled the horse! Speak loud enough to be heard by everybody.

_Farm._ Ay, that I will—I say (_very loudly_) I say I saw him there (_pointing to Wheeler_) take the jump which strained the horse; and I’m ready to swear to it. Yet he let another pay; there’s the shabbiness.

(_A general groan from all the lads_. “Oh, shabby Wheeler, shabby! I’ll not vote for shabby Wheeler!”)

_Lord J._ (_aside_). Alas! I must vote for him.

_Rory sings_.

“True game to the last; no Wheeler for me; Talbot, oh, Talbot’s the dog for me.”

(_Several voices join the chorus_.)

_Burs._ Wheeler, if you are not chosen Captain, you must see and pay me for the dress.

_Wheel._ I am as poor as a rat.

_Rory_. Oh, yes! oh yes! hear ye! hear ye, all manner of men—the election is now going to begin forthwith in the big field, and Rory O’Ryan holds the poll for Talbot. Talbot for ever!—huzza!

(_Exit Rory_, _followed by the Boys_, _who exclaim_ “Talbot for ever!—huzza!” _The Landlord and Farmer join them_.)

_Lord J._ Talbot, I am glad you are what I always thought you—I’m glad you did not write that odious song. I would not lose such a friend for all the songs in the world. Forgive me for my hastiness this morning. I’ve punished myself—I’ve promised to vote for Wheeler.

_Talb._ Oh, no matter whom you vote for, my lord, if you are still my friend, and if you know me to be yours.

(_They shake hands_.)

_Lord J._ I must not say, “Huzza for Talbot!”

(_Exeunt_.)