Ko. OOCLXVL FRENOH’S STANDARD DRAMA. The Colleen Bawn, BRIDES OF GARRYOWEN. A DOMESTIC DRAMA IN 8 ACTS* DION BOUCICAULT, PRICE 25 CENTS L New York: SAMUEL FRENCH Publisher 25 West 45th Street London: SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd, 26 Southampton Street Strand, W.C.2 =J MRS. WIGGS OF THE CABBAGE PATCH Dramatization in 3 acts, by Anne Crawford Flexner from the novel by Alice Began E'ice. 15 males, 11 females, y interior, 1 exterior. Costumes modern and rustic. Plays a full evening. .a. capital dramatization of the ever-beloved Mrs. Wiggs and her friends, people who have entered the hearts and minds of a nation. Mrs. Schultz and Lovey Mary, the pessimistic Miss Hazy and the others need no new introduction. Here is characteriza¬ tion, humor, pathos, and what is best and most appealing in modern American life. The amateur acting rights are reserved for the present in all cities and towns where there are stock companies. Royalty will be quoted on application for those cities *nd towns where it may be presented by amateurs. Price, 75 Cents. THE FOUR-FLUSHER Comedy in 3 acts. By Caesar Dunn. 8 males, 5 females, 2 interiors. Modern costumes. Plays 2 1 ,4 hours. A comedy of hustling American youth, “The Four-Flusher ’* is one of those clean and bright plays which reveal the most appeal¬ ing characteristics of our native types. Here is an amusing story of a young shoe clerk who through cleverness, personality, and plenty of wholesome faith in himself, becomes a millionaire. The play is best described as “breezy.” It is full of human touches, and develops a most interesting story. It may be whole-heartedly recommended to high schools. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. PALS FIRST Comedy in a prologue and 3 acts. By Lee Wilson Dodd 8 males, 3 females. 1 interior, 1 exterior. Modern cos tumes. Plays 2hours. Based on the successful novel of the same name by F. I Elliott, “Pals First” is a decidedly picturesque mystery play Danny and the Dominie, a pair of tramps, enter a mansion an< persuade the servants and friends that they belong there. The are not altogether wrong, though it requires the intervention c a judge, two detectives, a villain and an attractive girl to ur iangle the complications. A most ingenious play, well adapte Vo performance by high schools and colleges. (Royalty, twenty 3ve dollars.) Price, 75 Cent; SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City Our New Catalogue Will Be Sent on Receipt of Five Cents No. CCCLXVI. FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. THE ACTING EDITION. THE COLLEEN BAWN; OR, THE BRIDES OF GARRYOWEN. A DOMESTIC DRAMA, IN THREE ACTS. BY DION BOUCIGAULT\ ESQ., AUTHOR OF Uhe Pope of Rome, The Young Actress, The Poor of New York, The Lmblla Boy, Pauvrette, Life of i.n Actress, Jessie Brown, The Octoroon, AzaeJ, Eiue Belle, &c. New York SAMUEL FRENCH publisher’ 25 WEST 45TH STREET London SAMUEL FRENCH, Lm 26 Southampton Street Strand, W.C.2 COLLEEN BAWN. Original Cast, at Miss Laura Keene's Theater, Wew York, March 21th, I860. CAST OP CHARACTERS.—[Th a Colleen Bawn.] Myles na Coppaleen ... .Mr. Dion Boucicault. Hardress Cregan. .Mr. H. F. Daly. Danny Mann. ..Mr. Charles Wheatleigk Kyrle Daly. .. Mr. Charles Fisher. Father Tom. .Mr. D. W. Leeson. Mr. Corrigan. Bertie 0’Moore. Hyland Creagh. Servant. . Mr. Goodrich. Corporal.. . Mr. Clarke. Eily O’Connor. Anne Chute... Mrs. Cregan. Sheelah. Kathleen Creagh. Ducie Blennerhasset ... COSTUMES.— Period, 179—. Hardress. —Green broad-skirted body coat of the time ; double- breasted light silk waistcoat, leather pantaloons, top boots, hair rather long, steeple-crowned gold-laced hat, and white muslin cravat. 2nd Dress: Blue body coat, white waistcoat, white kerseymere breeches, silk stockings, and shoes. Daly. —Brown coat, etc., same fashion as above. 2nd Dress: Full dress. Creagh, 0’ Moore, and Gentj.emen. —Evening dress. Father Tom. —Broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat, faded blacR suit, black riding boots, and white cravat. Danny. [A hunchback .] Blue fiieze jacket, corduroy breeches, yellow waistcoat, gray stockiDgs, shoes and buckles, and old seal-skin cap. Myles. —Drab great coat, with cape, red cloth waistcoat, old vel¬ veteen breeches, darned gray stockings, and shoes. Corrigan. —Black suit, top boots, and brown wig. Mrs. Cregan.—P uce silk dress of the time, white muslin neckerchief and powdered hair. 2nd Dress : Handsome embroidered silk dreat, jewels and fan. Anne. —Gold-laced ruling habit, hat and vail. 2nd Dress: White embroidered muslin dress, and colored sasb. Eily. Blue merino petticoat, chintz tuck-up body and skiits, short sleeves, blue stockings, hair plain, with neat comb, red cloak, and aood. Library, Univ. ot North Carolip* THE COLLEEN BAWN* ACT I. SCENE I.— [Night.']—Tore Cregan, the Residence of Mrs. Oregon, en the Banks of Killamey. House, l. 2 e. ; window facing Audience — light behind—light to work in drop at back. Stage open at back. Music— wen bars before curtain. Enter Hardress Cregan, from house, L. Hard [Going up c.] Hist ! Danny, are you there ? Danny appearing from below, at back Danny Is it yourself, Masther Hardress ? Hard Is the boat ready ? Danny Snug under the blue rock, sir. Hard Does Eily expect me to-night ? Danny Expict is it ? Here is a lether she bade me gvve yea ; sure the young thing is never aisy when you are aw»y. Look, masther, dear, do ye see that light, no bigger than a star beyant on Muckross Head? Hard Yes, it is the signal which my dear Eily leaves burning in our chamber. Danny All night long she sits beside that light, wid her face fixed on that lamp in your windy above. Hard Dear, dear Eily ! after all here’s asleep, I will leap from my window, and we’ll cross the lake. Danny [Searching.] Where did I put that lether? Enter Kyrle Daly from house , l. Kyrle [l.] Hardress, who is that with you ? Hard [c.] Only Mann, my boatman. Kyrle That feilow is like your shadow. Danny [r.] Is it a cripple like me, that wouhl be the shadow of an illegant gintleman like Mr. Hardress Cregan ? Kyrle [l.] Well, I mean that he never leaves your side. Hard [c.] And he never shall leave me. Ten years ago he was a flue boy—we were foster-brothers, and playmates—in a moment of passion, while we were struggling, I dung him from the gap rock into the reeks below, and thus he was maimed for life. I COLLEEN BAWN. Danny Arrah ! whist aroon ! wouldn’t 1 die for yez? didn’t the game mother foster us? Why, wouldn’t ye break my back if it plazed ye, and welkim 1 Oh, Masther Kyrle, if ye’d seen him nursin’ me for months, and cryiu’ over me, and keenin’! Sin’ that time, sir, my body’s been crimpin’ up smaller and smaller every year, but my heart is gettin’ bigger for him every day. Ilard Go along, Danny. Damy Long life t’ye, sir! I’m off. [Runs up and descends rocks , 0. to B. Kyrle Hardress, a word with you. Be honest with me—do you h>ve Anne Chute? Hard Why do you ask ? Kyrle Because we have been fellow-collegians and friends through life, and the five years that I have passed at sea have strengthened, but have not cooled, my feelings towards you. [Offers hand. Enter Mrs. Creqan, from house, l. Hard [l.] Nor mine for you, Kyrle. You are the same noble fel¬ low as ever. You ask me if I love my cousin Anne ? Mrs. C [c , between them.] And I will answer you, Mr. Daly. Hard [r.] My mother ! Mrs. O [c ] My 6on and Miss Chute are engaged. Excuse me, Kyrle, for intruding on your secret, but I have observed your love for Anne with some regret. I hope your heart is not so far gone as to be beyond recovery. Kyrle [l.] Forgive me, Mrs. Cregan, but are you certain that Miss Chute really is in love with Hardress ? Mrs. C Look at him ! I’m sure no girl could do that and doubt it. Kyrle But I’m not a girl, ma’am ; and sure, if you are mistaken— Hard Mv belief is that Anne does not care a token for me, and iikes Kyrle better. Mrs. C [c.] You are an old friend of my son, and I may confide to you a family secret. The extravagance of my husband left this es¬ tate deeply involved. By this marriage with Anne Chute we redeem every acre of our barony. My son and she have been brought up as children together, and don’t know their true feelings yet. Hard Stop, mother, 1 know this : I would not wed my cousin if she did not love me, not if she carried the whole county Kerry in her pocket, and the barony of Kenmare in the crown of her hat. M^s. C Do you hear the proud blood of the Cregans ? Hard Woo her, Kyrle, if you like, and win her if you can. I'll back you. Enter Anne Chute, from house , L. Anne £l. c.l So v\ill I—what’s the bet? Mrs. C Hush! Anne I’d like to have bet on Kyrle. Hard Well, Anne, I’ll tell you what it was. Mrs. C [c.j Hardress ! Anne [l. c. ] Pull in one side aunt, and let the boy go on. Hard lR. ] Kyrle wanted to know if the dark brown colt, Hardress OreKan. was going to walk over the course for the Anne Chute Stakes. r whether it was a scrub-race open to all. Anne I in free-trade—coppleens, mules and biddys. COLLEEN BAWN. « Mrs. C How can you trifle with a heart like Eyrie 1 s f Anne Trifle ! his heart can be no trifle, if he’s all in proportion. Enter Servant, from house, l. Servant Squire Corrigan, ma’am, begs to see you. Mrs. 0 At this hour, what can the fellow want ? Show Mr. Corrigan here. [Exit Servant into house, l.] I hate this man ; he was my hus¬ band’s agent, or what the people here call a middle-man—vul- gularly polite, and impudently obsequious. Hard [r.] Genus squireen—a half sir, and a whole scoundrel. Anne I know—a potatoe on a silver plate : I’ll leave you to peel him. Come, Mr. Daly, take me for a moonlight walk, and be funny. Kyrle Funny, ma’am, I’m afraid I am— Anne You are heavy, you mean ; you roll through the world like a hogshead of whisky ; but you only want tapping for pure spirits to flow out spontaneously. Give me your arm. [ Grossing, r.] Hold that glove now. You are from Ballinasloe, I think ? Kyrle I’m Connaught to the core of my heart. Anne To the roots of your hair, you mean. I bought a horse at Ballinasloe fair that deceived me ; I hope you won’t turn out to be¬ long to the same family. Kyrle [r. c.] What did he do ? Anne Oh ! like you, he looked well enough—deep in the chest as a pool—a-dhiol, and broad in the back as the Gap of Dunloe—but af¬ ter two days’ warm work he came all to pieces, and Larry, my groom, said he’d been stuck together with glue. Kyrle |R.j Really, Miss Chute ! [Music. — Exeunt , r. 1 B, Hard [ Advancing, laughing .] That girl is as wild as a coppleen,— she won’t leave him a hair on the head. [Goes up. Enter Servant, showing in Corrigan, from house , l. [Exit Servant, l. Corrigan [l.] Your humble servant, Mrs. Cregan—my service t’ye, ’Squire—it’s a fine night, entirely. Mrs. C [c.] May I ask to what business, sir, we have the honoi of your call ? Oorrig [Aside, l. o.] Proud as a Lady Beelzebub, and as grand as a queen. [Aloud.'] True for you, ma’am ; I would not have come, but for a divil of a pinch I’m in entirely. I’ve got to pay £8,000'to-mor row or lose the Knockmakilty farms. Mrs. C Well, sir? Corrig And I wouldn’t throuble ye— Mrs. C Trouble me, sir ? Corrig Iss, ma’am — ye’d be forgettin’ now that mortgage I hart on this property. It ran out last May, and by rights — Mrs C It will be paid next month. Corrig Are you reckonin’ on the marriage of Mister Hardress and Miss Anne Chute ? Hard [Advancing, r.] Mr. Corrigan, you forget yourself. Mrs. C Leave us, Hardress, a while. [Hardress retires, r.] Now, Mr. Corrigan, state, in as few words as possible, what you demand. Corrig Mrs. Cregan, ma’am, you depend on Miss Anne Chute’s fortune to pay me the money, but your son does not love the lady, or, if he does, he has a mighty quare way of showing it. He has an- I COLLEEN BAWN. Danny Arrah ! whist aroon ! wouldn’t 1 die for yez ? didn’t the game mother foster us ? Why, wouldn’t ye break my back if it plazed ye, and welkim I Oh, Masther Kyrle, if ye’d seen him nursin’ me for months, and cryin’ over me, and keenin’! Sin’ that time, sir, my body’s been crimpin’ up smaller and smaller every year, but my heart is gettin' bigger for him every day. Hard Go along, Danny. Danny Long life t’ye, sir ! I’m off. [Runs up and descends rocks , 0. to b. Kyrle Hardress, a word with you. Be honest with me—do you h>ve Anne Chute? Hard Why do you ask ? Kyrle Because we hare been fellow-collegians and friends through life, and the five years that I have passed at sea have strengthened, but have not cooled, my feelings towards you. [Offers hand. Enter Mrs. Creqan, from house , L. Hard [l.] Nor mine for you, Kyrle. You are the same n^ble fel¬ low as ever. You ask me if I love my cousin Anne ? Mrs. C [c j between them.] And I will answer you, Mr. Daly. Hard [r.] My mother ! Mrs. C [c ] My son and Miss Chute are engaged. Excuse me, Kyrle, for intruding on your secret, but I have observed your love for Anne with some regret. I hope your heart is not so far gone as to be beyond recovery. Kyrle [l.] Forgive me, Mrs. Cregan, but are you certain that Miss Chute really is in love with Hardress ? Mrs. C Look at him ! I’m sure no girl could do that and doubt it. Kyrle But I’m not a girl, ma’am ; and sure, if you are mistaken— Hard My belief is that Anne does not care a token for me, and likes Kyrle better. Mrs. C [c.] You are an old friend of my son, and I may confide to you a family secret. The extravagance of my husband left this es¬ tate deeply involved. By this marriage with Anne Chute we redeem every acre of our barony. My son and she have been brought up as children together, and don’t know their true feelings yet. Hard Stop, mother, I know this : I would not wed my cousin if she did not love me, not if she carried the whole county Kerry in her pocket, and the barony of Kenmare in the crown of her hat. Mrs. C Do you hear tne proud blood of the Cregans ? Hard Woo her, Kyrle, if you like, and win her if you can. I’ll back you. Enter Anne Chute, from house, L. Anne [>l. c.] So v\ ill I — what’s the bet? Mrs. C Hush! Anne I’d like to have bet on Kyrle. Hard Well, Anne, I’ll tell you what it was. Mrs. C [c.j Hardress ! Anne [l. c. j Pull in one side aunt, and let llie boy go on. Hard [r.] Kyrle wanted to know if the dark brown colt, Hardress OreKan. was going to walk over the course for the Anne Chute Stakes* r whether it was a scrub-race open to all. Anne I m free-trade—coppleens, mules and biddys. COLLEEN BAWN. % Mrs. C How can you trifle with a heart like Eyrie 1 s ? Anne Trifle ! his heart can be no trifle, if he’s all in proportion. Enter Servant, from house, l. Servant Squire Corrigan, ma’am, begs to seeyou. Mrs. C At this hour, what can the fellow want ? Show Mr. Corrigan here. [Exit Servant into house, l.] I hate this man ; he was my hus¬ band’s agent, or what the people here call a middle-man—vul- gularly polite, and impudently obsequious. Hard [r.] Genus squireen—a half sir, and a whole scoundrel. Anne I know—a potatoe on a silver plate : I’ll leave you to peel him. Come, Mr. Daly, take me for a moonlight walk, and be funny. Kyrle Funny, ma’am, I’m afraid I am— Anne You are heavy, you mean ; you roll through the world like a hogshead of whisky ; but you only want tapping for pure spirits to flow out spontaneously. Give me your arm. [i Grossing , r.] Hold that glove now. You are from Ballinasloe, I think ? Kyrle I’m Connaught to the core of my heart. Anne To the roots of your hair, you mean. I bought a horse at Ballinasloe fair that deceived me ; I hope you won’t turn out to be¬ long to the same family. Kyrle [r. c.J What did he do ? Anne Oh ! like you, he looked well enough—deep in the chest as a pool—a-dhiol, and broad in the back as the Gap of Dunloe—but af¬ ter two days’ warm work he came all to pieces, and Larry, my groom, said he’d been stuck together with glue. Kyrle [r.] Really, Miss Chute ! [Music. — Exeunt, r. 1 ■. Hard [Advancing, laughing .] That girl is as wild as a coppleen,— she won’t leave him a hair on the head. [Goes up. Enter Servant, showing in Corrigan, from house, l. [Exit Servant, l. Corrigan [l.] Your humble servant, Mrs. Cregan—my service t’ye, 'Squire—it’s a fine night, entirely. Mrs. C [c.] May I ask to what business, sir, we have the honor of your call ? Corrig [Aside, l. o.] Proud as a Lady Beelzebub, and as grand as a queen. [Aloud.] True for you, ma’am ; I would not have come, but for a divil of a pinch I’m in entirely. I’ve got to pay £8,OOO'to-mor¬ row or lose the Knockmakilty farms. Mrs. C Well, sir ? Corrig And I wouldn’t throuble ye— Mrs. C Trouble me, sir ? Corrig Iss, ma’am — ye’d be forgettin' now that mortgage I har« on this property. It ran out last May, and by rights — Mrs C It will be paid next month. Corrig Are you reckonin’ on the marriage of Mister Hardress and Miss Anne Chute ? Hard [Advancing, R.] Mr. Corrigan, you forget yourself. Mrs. C Leave us, Hardress, awhile. [Hardress retires, r.] Now, Mr. Corrigan, state, in as few words as possible, what you demand. Corrig Mrs. Cregan, ma’am, you depend on Miss Anne Chute’s fortune to Day me the money, but your son does not love the lady, or, if he does, he has a mighty quare way of showing it. He has an- • COLLEEN BAWN, other girl on hand, and betune the two he’ll come to the ground, and so bedad will L Mrs. C That is false—it is a calumny, sir ! Corrig I wish it was, ma’am. D’ye see that light over the lake f your son’s eyes are fixed on it. What would Anne Chute say if she knew that her husband, that is to be, had a mistress beyant—that he slips out every night after you’re all in bed, and like Leandher, barriu’ the wettin', he sails across to his sweetheart ? Mrs. C Is this the secret of his aversion to the marriage ? Fool 1 fool 1 what madness, and at such a moment. Corrig That’s what 1 say, and no lie in it. Mrs. C He shall give up this girl—he must! Corrig I would like to have some security for that. I want, by to¬ morrow, Anne Chute’s written promise to marry him, or my £8,000. Mrs. C It is impossible, sir ; you hold ruin over our heads. Corrig Madam, it’s got to hang over your head or mine. Mrs. C Stay ; you know that what you ask is out of our power— you know it—therefore this demand only covers the true object erf your visit. Corrig ’Pon my honor 1 and you are as 'cute, ma’am, as you are beautiful! Mrs. C Goon, sir. Corrig Mrs. Cregan, I’m goin’ to do a foolish thing—now, by gorra I am ! I’m richer than ye think, maybe, and if you'll give m« your personal security, I’ll take it. Mrs. C What do you mean ? Corrig I meant that I’ll take a lien for life on you , instead of the mortgage I hold on the Cregan property. [Aside.] That’s nate, I’m thinkin’. Mrs. C Are you mad ? Gomg I am—mad in love with yourself, and that’s what I’ve been these fifteen years. [ Music through dialogue , till Anne Chute is off. Mrs. C Insolent wretch ! my son shall answer and chastise you. [Calls.] Hardressl Hard [Advancing.] Madam. Enter Anne Chute and Kyrle, r. Oorrig Miss Chute ! ) Hard Well, mother? > [Together.] Anne Well, sir? ) Mrs. C [Aside.] Scoundrel ! he will tell her all and ruin u*f [Aloud.] Nothing. ['Turns aside. Corrig Your obedient. Anne Oh ! [Crosses with Kyrle and exit, l. u. e. — Music ceases. Corrig You are in my power, ma’am. See, now, not a sowl but myselt knows of this secret love of Hardress Cregan, and I’ll keep it as snug as a bug in a rug, if you’ll only say the word. Mrs. C Contemptible bound. 1 loathe and despise you ! Corrig 1 ve known that fifteen years, but it hasn’t cured my heart ache. Mrs. C And you would buy my aversion and disgust! (Xrng Just as Anne Chute buys your son, if she knew but all. t he love his girl beyant, widout hateu this heiress he’s obliged U COLLEEN BAWN. 7 ■wallow?—ain’t you sthriven to sell him ? But you didn’t feel th« haidship of being sold till you tried it on yourself Mrs . C I beg you, sir, to leave me. Corrig That’s right, ma’am—think over it, sleep on it To morrow I’ll call for youi answer. Good evenin’ kindly. [M isic. — Exit Corrigan, in house, l. Mrs. C Hardress. Hard What did he want? Mrs. C He came to tell me the meaning of yonder light upon Muck* ross Head Hard Ah ! has it been discovered ? Well, mother, now you know the cause of my coldness, my indilference for Anne. Mrs. 0 Are you in your senses, Hardress? Who is this girl ? Hard She is known at every fair and pattern in Munster as the Colleen Bawn—her name is Eily O’Connor. Mrs. C A peasant girl—a vulgar, barefooted beggar 1 Hard Whatever she is, love has made her my equal, and when you set your foot upon her you tread upon my heart. Mrs. C ’Tis well, Hardress. I feel that perhaps I have no right to dispose of your life and your happiness—no, my dear son—I would not wound you—heaven knows how well I love my darling boy, and you shall feel it. Corrigan, has made me an offer by which you may regain the estate, and without selling yourself to Anne Chute. Hard What is it ? Of course you accepted it ? Mrs. C No, but I will accept, yes, for your sake—I—I will. He offers to cancel this mortgage if—if—I will consent to—become his wife. Hard You —you, mother ? Has he dared— Mrs. C Hush ! he is right. A sacrifice must be made—either you or I must suffer. Life is before you—my days are well nigh past— and for your sake, Hardress—for yours ; my pride, my only one.— Oh ! I would give you more than my life. Hard Never—never ! I will not—can not accept it. I’ll tear that dog’s tongue from his throat that dared insult you with the offer. Mrs. C Foolish boy, before to-morrow night we shall be beggars — outcasts from this estate. Humiliation and poverty stand like spec¬ ters at yonder door—to-morrow they will be realities. Can you tear out the tongues that will wag over our fallen fortunes ? You are a child, you can not see beyond your happiness. Hard Oh, mother, mother 1 what can be done ? My marriage with Anne is impossible. Enter Danny Mann, up rock , at back. Danny [r. o.] Whisht, if ye plaze—ye’re talkin’ so loud she’ll hear ye say that—she’s cornin’. Mrs. C Has this fellow overheard us? Hard If he has, he is mine, body and soul. I’d rather trust him with a secret than keep it my'self. Mrs. C [l. c.] I can not remain to see Anne ; excuse me to my friends. The night perhaps will bring counsel, or at least resolution to hear the worst! Good night, my son. [Music.—Exit into house, l. Danny [r. c.] Oh, masther ! she doesn’t know the worst! Sha doesn’t know that you are married the Colleen Bawn. I COLLEEN BAWN. Hard Hush! what fiend prompts you to thrust that act of follj in my face ? Danny Thrue for ye, masther ! I’m a dirty mane scut to remind ye of it. Hard What will my haughty, noble mother say, when 6he learna the truth ! how can I ask her to receive Eily as a daughter?—Eily, with her awkward manners, her Kerry brogue, her ignorance of the usages of society. Oh, what have I done ? Danny Oh ! vo—vo, has the ould family come to this ! Is it the daughter of Mihil-na-Thradrucha, the old rope-maker of Garryowen, that ’ud take the flure as your wife ? Hard Be silent, scoundrel ! How dare you speak thus of my love 1 —wretch that I am to blame her!—poor, beautiful, angel-hearted Eily. Danny Beautiful is it! Och—wurra—wurra, deelish ! The look ing-glass was never made that could do her justice ; and if St. Pat¬ rick wanted a wife, where would he find an angel that ’ud compare with the Colleen Bawn. As I row her on the lake, the little fishes come up to look at her ; and the wind from heaven lifts uf her hair to see what the divil brings her down here at all—at all. Hard The fciult is mine—mine alone—I alone will suffer! Danny Why isn’t it mine? Why can’t I suffer for yez, masther dear? Wouldn’t I swally every tear in your body, and every bit of bad luck in your life, and then wid a stone round my neck, sink my* aelf and your sorrows in the bottom of the lower lake. Hard [ Placing hand on Danny.] Good Danny, away with you to the boat—be ready in a few moments ; we will cross to Muckross Head. \Looks at light at back. [Music.—Exit Hardress into house , l. Danny Never fear, sir. Oh ! it isn’t that spalpeen, Corrigan, that shall bring ruin on that ould place. Lave Danny alone. Danny, the fox, will lade yez round and about, and cioss the scint. [Takes off his hat — seo letter.] Bedad, here’s the letter from the Colleen Bawn that I couldn’t find awhile ago — it’s little use now. [Goes to lotcer window , and reads by light from house.] “Come to your own Eily, that nas not seen you for two long days. Come, aoushla agrah machre's. I have forgotten bow much you love me—Shule, shule agrah.—Colleen Bawn.’’ Divil an address is on it. Enter Kyrle and Anne, l. u. e. Anne [o.] Have they gone ? Kyrle [l. o.] It is nearly midnight. Anne Before we go in, I insist on knowing who is this girl that possesses your heart. You confess that you are in love—deeply in love. Kyrle I do confess it—but not even your power can extract that secret from me—do not ask me, for I could not be false, yet dare not be true. [Exit Kyrle into house, l. Anne [l. c.] He loves me — oh ! he loves me — the little bird ia making a nest in my heart. Oh ! I’m faint with joy. Danny [As if calling after him.] Sir, sir ! Anne W ho is that ? Danny I’m the boatman below, an’ Im waitin for the gintleman COLLEEN BAWN % Anne What gentleman ? Danny Him that’s jist left me, ma’am—I’m waitin’ on him. Anne Does Mr. Kyrle Daly go out boating at this hour? Danny It’s not for me to say, ma’am, but every night at twelve •’clock I’m here wid my boat under the blue rock below, to put him across the lake to Muckross Head. I beg your pardon, ma’am, but here’s a paper ye dropped on the walk beyant—if it’s no vally I’d like to light my pipe wid it. [ Gives it. Anne A paper I chopped ! [ Goes to window — read*. Danny \Asi.de.] Oh. Mistber Corrigan, you’ll ruin masther will ye? *isy now, and see how I’ll put the cross on ye. Anne A love-letter from some peasant girl to Kyrle Daly! Can this be the love of which he spoke ? have I deceived myself? Danny I must be off, ma’am ; here comes the signal. [Music. Anne The signal ? Danny D’ye see yonder light upon Muckross Head? It.is in a cottage windy; that light goes in and out three times winkin’ that way, as much as to say, “Are ye coinin’ ?’’ Then if the light in that room there [points at houie above,] answers by a wink, it manes No! but if it goes out entirely, his honor jumps from the parlor windy into the garden behind, and we’re off. Look ! [Light in cottage disappears .] That’s one. [Light appears.] Now again. [Light disap¬ pears.] That’s two. [Light appears.] What did I tell you? [Lighi disappears.] That’s thr^e, and here it comes again. [Light appears . < Wait now, and ye’ll see the answer. [Light disappears from window, L. That’s my gentleman. [Music change.] You see he’s goin’—gooc night, ma’am. Anne Stay, here’s money ; do not tell Mr. Daly that I know ol this. Danny Divil a word—long life t’ye. [Goes up. Anne I was not deceived; he meant me to understand that he loved me ! Hark ! I hear the sound of some one who leaped heavily on the garden walk. [Goes to house l. —looking at back. Enter Hardress, wrapped in a boat cloak, l. u. e. Danny [Going down, r. c.] All right, yer honor. [Hardress crosses at back, and down rock, R. C. Anne [ Hiding , l.] It is he, 'tis he. [Mistaking Hardress for Daly— closed in. SCENE U.--The Gap of Dunloe. [Is? grooves.] Hour before sunriM. Enter Corrigan, r. 1 e. Corng From the rock above I saw the boat leave. Tore Cregan. It is now crossing the lake to the cottage. Who is this girl ? What if this mysterious misthress of young Cregan ?—that I 11 find out. [Myles sings outside, L. “ Oh! Charley Mount is a pretty place. In the month of July-” Who’s that?—’Tis that poaching stealer, Myles na Coppaleen. Here he com' rusty. bouki a# Nebuckadev^ar. . scoundrel—that horse 8 with a keg of illicit to COLLEEN BAWN. Enter Mtles, singing , with keg on his shoulder fc. Is that you, Myles ? Myles No ! it’s my brother. Corrig I know ye, my man. Myles Then why the divil did ye a* ? Corrig You may as well answer me kindly—-civility costs nothing Myles [l. c.j Oiv now ! don’t it? Civility to a lawyer manes six* and-eiglit-pence about. Corrig [r. o.] VVbat'o that on your shoulder? Myles What s that to you ? Corrig I am a magistrate, and can oblige you to answer. Miles Well! it’s a boulster, belongin’ to my mother’s feather bed Corrig Stuff’d with whisky ! Myles Bedad ! how would I know what it’s stuff’d wid ? I’m not an upholsterer. Corrig Come, Myles, I’m not so bad a fellow as ye may think. Mijles To think of that now! Corrig I am not the mane creature you imagine ! Myles. Ain’t ye now, sir? You keep up appeamnces mighty well, indeed. Cor*ig No, Myles! I am not that blackgumd I’ve been repre sented. Myles [Sits on keg.] See that now—how people f r.lo away a man’s character. You are another sort of blackguard entirely. Corrig You shall find me a gentleman—liberal, and ready to pro¬ tect you. Myles Long life t’ye sir. Corrig Myles, you have cone down in the world lately; a year a £° you were a thriving horse-dealer, now you are a lazy, ragged fellow. ° Myles Ah, it’s the bad luck, sir, that’s in it. Corrig No, it’s the love of Eily O’Connor that’s in it—it’s the pride of Garryowen that took your heart away, and made yo what ye are —a smuggler and a poacher. Myles Thim’s hard words. Corrig' But they are true. You live like a wild beast in some cave or hole in the rocks above ; by night your gun is heard shootin’ the otter as they lie out on the stones, or you snare the salmon in youi nets ; on a cloudy night your whisky-still is gffng—you see I know your life. Myles Better than the priest, and devil a lie in it. Corrig Now, if I put ye in a snug farm—stock ye with pigs and cattle and rowl you up comfortable-d’ye think the Colleen Bawn wouldn t jump at ye ? Myles Bedad, she d make a lape, I b’lieve—and what would I do for all this luck ? Corrig Find out for me who it is that lives at the cottage on Muck ross Head. Myles That’s aisy—it’s Bheelah. Danny Mann—no less and his ouid mot he* Corny Yes, Myles, but there’s another—a girl who B hid there. Myles Ah, now ! Cbrrig She only goes out at night COLLEEN BAWN. 11 Myles Like the owls. Cunrig She’s the misthress of Hardress Cregan. Myles [Seizing Corrigan ] Thurra mon dhiol, what’s that? Corrig Oh, lor! Myles—Myles—what’s the matter—are you mad ? Myles No—that is—why—why did ye raise your hand at me in that wav? Corrig I didn't. Myles I thought ye did—I’m mighty quick at takin’ tliim hints, bein’ on me keepin’ agin the gaugers—go on—I didn’t hurt ye. Corrig Not much. Myles You want to find out who this girl is? (Xrrig I'll give £20 for the information—there's ten on account. ■Jjives money. Myles Long life t’ye ; that’s the first money I iver got from a lawyer, and bad luck to me, but there s a cure tor the evil eye in thim pieces. Corrig You will watch to-night ? Myles In five minutes I’ll be inside the cottage itself. Corrig T'hat’s the lad. Myles [Aside.] I wai goin’ there. , Corrig And to-morrow you will step down to my office with the particulars ? Myles To-morrow you shall breakfast on them. Corrig Good night, entirely. [Exit Corrigan,, l. Myles I’ll give ye a cowstail to swally, and make ye think it’s a chapter in St. Patrick, ye spalpeen? When he called Eily the mis¬ thress of Hardress Cregan, I nearly stliretched him—begorra, I was full of sudden death that minute ! Oh, Eily ! acushla agrah asthore machree 1 as the stars watch over Innistallen, and as the wathers go round it and keep it, so I watch and keep round you, avourneen 1 Song .— Myles. Oh, Limerick is beautiful, as everybody knows, The river Shannon’s full of fish, beside that city flows ; But it is not the river, nor the fish that preys upon my mind, Nor with the town of Limerick have I any fault ta find. The girl 1 love is beautiful, she’s fairer than the dawn ; She lives in Garryowen, and she’s called the Colleen Bawn. As the river, proud and bold, goes by that famed city, So proud and cold, without a word, that Colleen goes by me. Oh, hone ! Oh, hone ! Oh, if I was the Emperor of Russia to command, Or, .Tnlinq Caesar, or the Lord Lieutenant ot the land, I’d give up all my wealth, my manes. I’d give up my army, Both the horse, the fut, and the Royal Artillery ; . I’d give the crown from off my head, the people on their knees, I’d give my fleet of sailing ships upon the briny seas, And a beggar I’d go to sleep, a happy man at dawn, If by my side, uxst for my bride. I’d the darhn Colleen Bawn. Oh, hone ! Oh, hone 1 I must reach cottage before the masther arrives , Father Iona Is there tor this keg o’ starlight—it e my thhe : I cal eve.y 12 COLLEEN BAWN tenth keg “his riverince.” It’s worth money to see the way it does the old man good, and brings the wather in his eyes, the only place 1 ever see any about him—heaven bless him ! [Sings. Exit Myles, r.— Musk. SCENE ILL—Interior of Eilfs Cottage on Muckross Head; fire burning, a. 8 e. ; table , a. c. ; arm chair; two stools, r. of table; stool l. of table ; basin, sugar spoon, two jugs, tobacco, plate, knife , and lemon on table. Father Tom discovered smoking in arm chair, r. o.— Eily in balcony % watching over lake. Father Tom [Sings.] “ Tobacco is an Injun weed." And every weed want’s watheriug to make it come up ; but tobacco bein’ an’ Injun weed that is accustomed to a hot climate, water is entirely too cold for its warrum nature—it’s whisky and water it wants. I wonder ii Myles has come ; I’ll ask Eily. [Calls.] Eily, alanna! Eily, a suilish machree! Eily [Turning.] Is it me, Father Tom ? Father T Has he come ? Eily No ; his boat is half a mile off yet. Father T Half a mile ! I’ll choke before he’s here. Eily Do you mean Hardress ? Father T No, dear ! Myles na Coppaleen—cum spiritu Hiberneuse— which manes in Irish, wid a keg of poteen. Enter Myles, r. u. e., down c. Myles Here I am, your riverince, never fear. I tould Sheelah to hurry up with the materials, kuowin’ ye be dhry and hasty. Enter Siieelaii, with kettle of water, r u. e. Sheelah Here’s the hot water. Myles Lave it there till I brew Father Tom a pint of mother’s milk. Sheelah Well thin, ye’ll do your share of the work, an not a ha’- porth more. Myles Didn’t I bring the sperrits from two miles and more ? and I deserve to have pref’rence to make the punch for his riverince. Sheelah And didn’t I watch the kettle all night, not to let it off the boil ?—there now. Myles [Quarreling with Sheelah.] No, you didn’t, etc. Sheelah [Quarreling.] Yes, I did, etc. Eily No, no ; I’ll make it, and nobody else. Father T Aisy now, ye becauns, and whist ; Myles shall put in the whisky, Sheelah shall, put in the hot water, and Eily, my Colleen, shall put the sugar in the cruiskeen. A blessin’ on ye all three that loves the ould man. [Myles takes off hat — Women curtsey—they make jounch.] See now, my children, there’s a moral in everthing, e’en in a jug of punch. There’s the sperrit, which is the sowl and strength of the man. [Myles pours spirit from keg.] That’s the whisky. There’s the sugar, which is the smile of woman ; [Eily puts sugar.] without that life is without taste or sweetness, 'then there’s the lemon, [Eily C lemon.] which is love ; a squeeze now and again does a boy no n ; but not too much. And the hot water (Sheelah pour* water. 1 COLLEEN BAWN. It wiiich is adversity—as little as possible if ye plaze—that makes thi good things better still. Myles And it's complate, ye see, for it’s a woman that gets into hot wather all the while. [Pours from jug to jig. Sheelah Myles, if I hadn’t the kettle, I’d hate ye. Myles Then, why didn’t ye let me make the punch ? There’s a guinea fur your riverince that’s come t’ye—one in ten I got a while ago—it’s your tithe—put a hole in it, and hang it on your watch chain, for it’s a mighty great charm entirely. [They sit, Sheelah near fire, Colleen on stool beside her , Fathek Tom in chair, Myles on stool , l. of table. Father T Eily, look at that hoy, and tell me, haven’t ye a dale to answer for ? Eily He isn't as had about me as he used to he ; he’s getting over it. Myles Yes, darlin’, the storm has passed over, and I’ve got into settled bad weather. Father T Maybe, afther all, ye’d have done better to have married Myles there, than be the wife of a man that’s ashamed to own ye. Eily He isn’t—he’s proud of me. It’s only when I spake like the poor°people, and say or do anything wrong, that he’s hurt ; hut I’m gettin’ clane of the brogue, and learnin’ to do nothing—I’m to he vhanged entirely. Myles Oh ! if he’d lave me yer own self, and only take away wid him his improvements. Oh ! murder—Eily, aroon, why wasn’t ye twins, an’ I could have one of ye, only nature couldn’t make two like ye—it would he onroasonable to ax it. Eily Poor Myles, do you love me still so much ? Myles Didn’t I lave the world to folley ye, and since then there’s been neither night nor day in my life—I lay down on Glenna Point above, where I see this cottage, and I lived on the sight of it. Oh ! Eily, if tears were pison to the grass there wouldn’t he a green blade on G lenna Hill this day. Eily But you knew 1 was married, Myles. Myles Not thin, aroon—Father Tom found me that way, and sat beside, and lifted up my soul. Then I confessed to him, and, sez he, “ Myles, gu to Eily, she has something to say to you—say I sent you ” I came, and ye tould me ye were Hardress Oregan’s wife, and ihat was a great comfort entirely. Since I knew that [Drinks — voice in cup.] I haven’t been the blackguard I was. Father T See the beauty of the priest, my darlin’— videteet admirals —see and admire it. It was at confession that Eily tould me she loved Cregan, and what did 1 do?—sez I, “Where did you meet your sweetheart ?’’ “ At Garryowen,” sez she. “ Well,” says I; “that’s not the place.” “Thrue, your riverince, it’s too public en¬ tirely,” sez she. “ Ye’ll mate him only in one place,’’ sez I; “ and that’s the stile that’s behind my chapel,” for, d'ye see, her mother's grave was forenint the spot, and there’s a sperrit round the place, [Myles drinks, J that kept her pure and strong. Myles, ye thate, drink fair. Sheelah Come now, Eily, couldn’t ye cheer up his riverince wid th* tail of a song ? Eily Hardress bid me not sing any ould Irish songs, he says the (rords are vulgar. 14 COLLEEN BAWN. Sheelah Father Tom will give ye absolution Father T Put your lips to that jug ; there’s only the strippens left. Drink ! and while that thrue Irish liquor warms your heart, take thia wid it. May the brogue of ould Ireland niver forsake your tongue— may her music niver lave yer voice—and may a true Irishwoman’s virtue niver die in your heart! Myles Come, Eily, it’s my liquor—haven't ye a word to say for it ! Sony, Eily —“ Oruiskeen Lawn." Let the farmer praise bis grounds, As the huntsman doth his hounds, And the shepherd his fresh and dewy mom ; But I, more blest than they, Spend each night and happy day. With my smilin’ little Crusikeen Lawn, Lawn, Lawn Chorus [Repeat.] Gramachree, mavourneen, slanta gal avourneen, Gramachree ma Cruiskeen Lawn, Lawn, Lawn, With my smiling little Cruiskeen Lawn. [Chorused ly Myles, Father T., and Sheelah. Myles. And when grim Death appears, In long and happy years, To tell me that my glass is run, I’ll say, begone you slave, For great Bacchus gave me lave To have another Cruiskeen Lawn—Lawn—Lawn. Chorus. — Repeat. Gramachree, &c., &c. Hard [Without, l. u. e.] Ho! Sheelah—Sheelah! Sheelah [Rising.] Whist! it’s the master. Eily [Frightened.] Hardress ! oh, my ! what will he say if he findfl as here—run, Myles—quick, Sheelah—clear away the things. Lather T Hurry now, or we’ll get Eily in throuble. [Takes Jceg — Myles takes jugs— Sheelah kettle. Hard Sheelah, I say ! [Exeunt Father Tom and Myles, r. u. e., quickly. Sheelah Cornin’, Sir, I’m puttin’ on my petticoat. [Exit Sheelah, r. d. e. , quickly . Enter Hardress and Danny, l. u. e. opening —Danny immediately goes Off, R. U. E Eily [o.] Oh, Hardress, asthore ? Hard [l. c.] Don’t call me by those confounded Irish words—whet's the matter? you’re trembling like a bird caught in a trap. Edy Am I, mavou— no I mean—is it tremblin’ I am, dear? Hard What a dreadful smell of tobacco there is here, and the fumes of whisky punch, too ; the place smells like a shebeen. Who hae been here? Eily There was Father Tom, an - Myles dhropj»ed in. Hard Nice company for my wife—a vagabond. COLLEEN BAWN. U Edy Ah ! who made him so but me, dear? Before I saw you, Hard- regg, Myles coorted me, and I was kindly to the boy. Hard Damn it, Eily, why will you remind me that my -rife wa« ever in such a position ? Eily I won’t see him again—if yer angry, dear, I’ll tell him to go away, and he will, because the poor boy lcves me. Hard Yes, better than I do you mean? Eily No, I don’t—oh ! why do you spake so to your poor Eily ! Hard Spake so ! Can’t you say speak ? Eily I’ll thry, aroon—I’m sthriviu’—’tis mighty hard, but what wouldn’t I undert-tee-ta—undergo for your sa-se—for your seek. Hard Sake—sake ! Eily Sake—seek—oh, it is to bother people entirely they mixed ’em up ! Why didn’t they make them all one way ? Hard [Aside.] It is impossible ! How can I present her as my wife? Oh ! what an act of madness to tie myself to one so much beneath me—beautiful—good as she is— Eily Hardress, you are pale—what has happened ? Hard Nothing—that is, nothing but what you will rejoice at. Eily What d’ye mane? Hard What do I mane! Mean—mean ! Eily I beg your pardon, dear. Hard Well ; I mean that after to-morrow there will be no necessity to hide our marriage, for I shall be a beggar, my mother will be an outcast, and amidst all the shame, who will care what wife a Cregan takes ? Eily And d’ye think I’d like to see you dhragged down to my side —ye don’t know me—see now—never call me wife again—don’t let on to mortal that we’re married—I’ll go as a servant in your moth¬ er’s house—I’ll work for the smile ve’ll give me in passing, and I’ll be happy, if ye’ll only let me stand outside and hear your voice. Hard You’re a fool. I told you that I was bethrothed to the rich¬ est heiress in Kerry; her fortune alone can save us from ruin. To-night my mother discovered my visits here, and I told her who you were. Eily Oh ! what did she say ? Hard It broke her heart. Eily Hardress ! is there no hope ? Hard None. That is none—that—that I can name. Eily There is one—I see it. Hard There is. We w r ere children when we were married, and I could get no priest to join our hands but one, and he had been dis¬ graced by his bishop. He is dead. There was no witness to the cere¬ mony but Danny Mann—no proof but his word, and your certificate Eily [Takes paper from her breast.] This! Hard Eily ! if you doubt my eternal love, keep that security ; it gives you the right to the shelter of my roof ; but oh ! if you would be content with the shelter of my heart. Edy And will it save ye, Hardress ? And will your mothei forgive me ? Hard She will bless you—she will take you to her breast. Eily But you—another will take you to her breast. Hard Oh, Eily, darling, d’ye think I could forget you, maclvree—» forget tho sacrifice more than blood you give me ? COLLEEN BAWN. (6 Eily Oh! when you talk that way to me, ye might take my life and heart, and all. Oh ! Har Iress, I love you—take the paper and tare it. [Hardress take* paper. Enter Myles g., opening. Myles No. I’ll be damnei if he shall. Hard Scoundrel! you have been listening ? Myles To every word. I saw Danny, wid his ear agin that dure, so as there was only one kay-hole, I adopted the windy. Eily, aroon, Mr. Cregan will giv’ ye back that paper ; you can’t tare up an oath; will ye help him then to cheat this other girl, and to make her his mistress, for that’s what she’ll be if ye are his wife. An’ after all, what is there agin’ the crature ? Only the money she’s got. Will ^ou stop lovin’ him when his love belongs to another? No! I know it by myself; but if ye jine their hands together your love will be an adultry. Eily Oh, no! Hard Vagabond ! outcast! jail bird ! dare you prate of honor to me ? Myles [c.] I am an outlaw, Mr. Cregan—a felon, may be—but ii you do this thing to that poor girl that loves you so much—had I my neck in the rope—or my fut on the deck of a convict ship—I’d turn round and say to ye, “ Hardress Cregan, I make ye a presen* of the contimpt of a rogue." [Snaps finger*. Music till end of Ad. — Enter Father Tom, Sheelah and Danny, r. u. e. — Hardress throws down paper—goes to table—takes hat. Hard Be it so, Eily, farewell! until my house is clear of these ver¬ min— [Danny appears at back] —you will see me no more. [Exit Hardress, l. c., followed by Danny. Eily Hardress—Hardress! [Going up .] Don’t leave me, Hardress ll Father T [Intercepts her.] Stop, Eily! [Danny returns and listens. Eily He’s cone—he’s gone ! Father T Give me that paper, Myles. [Myles picks it up — gives it.] ELneel down there, Eily, before me—put that paper in your breast. Eily [Kneeling.] Oh, what will I do—what will I do? Father T Put your hand upon it now. Eily Oh, my heart—my heart! Father T Be thee hush, and spake after me — by my mother that’w In heaven. Eily By my mother that’s in heaven. Father T By the light and the word. Eily By fcho light and the word. Father T Sleepin’ or waivin’. Eily Sleepin’ or wakin’. Father T This proof of my truth. Eily This proof of my truth. Father T Shall never again quit my breast. BUy Shall never again quit my breast. Eily utters a cry and falls — Tableau. COLLEEN BAWN. 1? ACT II. CENE I —[1 st Grooves.]—Gap of Dunloe ; same as id Scene, Ad !.-> Music, Ente'r Hardress and Danny, l. 1 b. Hard [r.] Oh, what a giddy fool I’ve been! What would I give to recall this fatal act which bars my fortune ? Danny [l.] There’s something throublin’ yez, Masther Hardresa. Can’t Danny do something to aise ye ? Spake the word, and I’ll die for ye. Hard Danny, I am troubled. I was a fool when I refused to listen to you at the chapel of Castle Island. Danny When I warned ye to have no call to Eily O’Connor ? Hard I was mad to marry her. Danny I knew she was no wife for you. A poor thing widout any manners, or money, or book lamin’, or a ha’porth o’ fortin’. Oh, worra ! I told ye that, but ye bate me off, and here now is the way of it. Hard Well, it’s done, and can’t be undone. Danny Bedad, I dun know that. Wouldn’t she untie the knot herself—couldn’t ye coax her ? Hard No. Danny Is that her love for you? You that give up the divil an’ all for her. What’s her ruin to yours? Ruin—goredoutha—ruin ia it ? Don’t I pluck a shamrock and wear it a day for the glory of St. Patrick, and then throw it away when it’s gone by my likin’s. What is she to be ruined by a gentleman ? Whoo ! Mighty good for the likes o’ her. Hard She would have yielded, but— Danny Asy now, an’ I’ll tell ye. Pay her passage out to Quaybeck and put her aboord a three-master, widout sayin’ a word. Lave it to me. Danny will clear the road foreninst ye. Hard Fool, if she still possesses that certificate—the proof of my first marriage—how can I dare to wed another? Commit bigamy— disgrace my wife—bastardize my children ? Danny Den by the powers, I’d do by Eily as wid the glove there on yer hand ; make it come off as it came on—an’ if it fits too tight, take the knife to it. Hard \Turninq to him.] What do you mean ? Danny Only gi’ me the word, an’ I’ll engage that the Colleen Bawc will never trouble ye any more ; don’t ax me any questions at all. Only—if you’re agreeable, take off that glove from yer hand an’ give it to me for a token—that’s enough. Hard \T brows off cloak ; seizes him ; throws him do urn.] Villain! Dare you utter a word or meditate a thought of violence towards that girl— Danny Oh, murder ! may I never die in sin, if— Hard Begone ! away, at once, and quit my sight. I have chosen my doom ! I must learn to endure it—but blood !—and hers ! Shall I make cold and still that heart that beats alone for me ?—quench those eyeB that look so tenderly in mine ? Monster ! am 1 eo vil« that you dare to whisper such a thought ? 18 COLLEEN BAWN. Danny Oh, masther ! divil burn me if I meant any harm. Hard Mark me well, now. Respect my wife as you would the queen of the laud—whisper a word such as those you uttered to me, and it will be your last. 1 warn ye—remember and obey. [ Exit Hardress, r. Danny [Rises—picks up cloak.] Oh, the darlin’ crature ! would I harrum a hair of her blessed head ?—no ! Not unless you gave me that glove, and den I’d jump into the bottomless pit for ye. [Exit Danny, r. Music — change. ftOENE II.— Room in Mrs. Creqan’s house; window , r., in, flat, hacked by landscape ; door, l. , in flat; hacked hy interior. Lights up. Enter Anne Chute, l. in flat. Anne That fellow runs in my head. [ Looking at window.] There he Lb in the garden, smoking like a chimney-pot. [Calls.] Mr. Daly 1 Kyrle [Outside window.] Good morning ! Anne [Aside.] To think he’d smile that way, after going Leandering all night like a dissipated young owl. [Aloud.] Did you sleep well ? [Aside.] Not a wink, you villain, and you know it. Kyrle I slept like a top. Anne [Aside.] I’d like to have the whipping of ye. [Aloud.] When did you get back ? Kyrle Get back ! I’ve not been out. Anne [Aside.] He’s not been out! This is what men come to after a cruise at sea—they get sunburnt with love. Those foreign donnas teach them to make fire-places of their hearts, and chimney-pots of their mouths. [Aloud.] What are you doing down there ? [Aside.] As if he was stretched out to dry. [Kyrle puts down pipe outside. Enter Kyrle through window, r., mflat. Kyrle [r. c.] I have been watching Hardress coming over from Divil’s Island in his boat —the wind was dead against him. Anne [l. o.] It was fair for going to Divil’s Island last night, I be¬ lieve. Kyrle Was it ? Anne You were up late, I think ? Kyrle I was. I watched by my window for hours, thinking of her I loved—slumber overtook me, and I dreamed of a happiness I never can hope for. Anne Look me straight in the face. Kyrle Oh ! if some fairy could strike us into stone now—and leave us looking forever into each other’s faces, like the Hue lake below and the sky above it! Anne Kyrle Daly ! What would you say to a man who had two loves, one to whom he escaped at night, and the other to whom he devoted himself during the day—what would you say ? Kyrle I’d say he had no chance. Anne Oh, Captain Cautious ! Well answered. Isn’t he fit to take care of anybody ! his cradle was cut out of a witness-box. Enter Hardress through window , r. , in flat. Kyrle [r.] Anne ! I don’t know what you mean, but that I know that I love you, and you are sporting with a wretchedness you can COLLEEN HAW 19 not console. I was wrong to remain here so long, but I thought my friendship fcr Hardress would protect me against your invasion— now I will go. [Hardress advancing. Hard [c.] No, Kyrle, you will stay. Anne, he loves you, and I more than suspect you prefer him to me. From this moment you are free ; I release you from all troth tome: in his presence I do this. Anne [l.] Hardress ! Hard There is a bar between us which you should have known be fore, but I could not bring myself to confess. Forgive me, Anne— you deserve a better man than I am. [Jxit, l. Anne A bar between us ! What does he mean ? Kyrle He means that lie is on the verge of ruin: he did not know how bad things were till last night. His generous noble heart re¬ coils from receiving anything from you but love. Anne And does lie think I’d let him be ruined any way ? Does he think I wouldn’t sell the last rood of land—the gown off my back, and the hair off my head, before that boy that protected and loved me, the child, years ago, should come to a hap’orth of harrum ? [Crosses to R. Kyrle Miss Chute ! Anne Well, 1 can’t help it. When I am angry the brogue comes out, and my Irish heart will burst through manners, and graces, and twenty stay-laces. [ Crosses to l.] I’ll give up my fortune—that I will! Kyrle You can’t—you’ve got a guardian who can not-consent to such a sacrifice. Anne Have I ? then I’ll find a husband that will. Kyrle [Aside. j She means me—1 see it her eyes. Anne [Aside. f He’s trying to look unconscious. [Aloud.] Kyrle Daly, on your nonor and word as a gentleman, do you love me and nobody else ? Kyrle Do you think me capable of contaminating your image by admitting a meaner passion into my breast ? Anne Yes, I do. Kyrle Then you wrong me. Anne I’ll prove that in one word. Take care, now ; it’s coming. Kyrle Go on. Anne [Adde.] Now I’ll astonish him. [Aloud.] Eily ! Kyrle What’s that ? Anne “Shule, shule, agrah !” Kyrle Where to ? Anne Three winks, as much as to say, “ Are you coming ?” and an extinguisher above here means “ Yes." Now you see I know all about it. Kyrle You have the advantage of me. Anne Confess now, and I’ll forgive you. Kyrle I will ; tell me what to confess, and I’ll confess it—I don’t care what it is. Anne [Aside.] If I hadn’t eye proof he brazen it out of me. Isn’t he cunning? He’s one of those that would get fat where a fox would starve. Kyrle That was a little excursion into my past life—a sudden de¬ scent on my antecedents, to see if you could not surprise an infidelity —but I defy you. 2C COLLEEN BaWN. Anne You do? I accept that defiance ; and, mind me, Eyrie. If 1 find you true as I once thought, there’s my hand ; but if you arc false in this, Anne Chute will never change her name for yours. [Hi kisses her ha?id.] Leave me now. Kyrle Oh, the lightness you have given to my heart! The number of pipes I’ll smoke this afternoon will make them think we’ve got a haystack on fire. [Exit Kyrle, through window , r. Anne [Rings hell on table , r.] Here, Pat, Barney, some one. Enter Servant, l. door in flat. Tell Larry Dolan, my groom, to saddle the black mare, Fireball, but not bring her round the house—I’ll mount in the stables. [Exit Servant, l. door in flat. I’ll ride over to Muckross Head, and draw that cottage ; I’ll know what’s there. It mayn’t be right, but I haven’t a big brother to see after me—and self-protection is the first law of nature. [Exit Anne, r. 1 e. Music. Enltr Mrs. Creg an and Hardress, l. door in flat. Mrs. C [r. c.] What do you say, Hardress? Hard [l. c.] I say, mother, that my heart and faith are both al¬ ready pledged to another, and I can not break my engagement. Mrs. C And this is the end of all our pride ! Hard Repining is useless—thought and contrivance are of no avail —the die is cast. Mrs. C Hardress, I speak not for myself, but for you—and I would rather see you in your coffin than married to this poor, lowborn, silly, vulgar creature. I know you, my son ; you will be miserable when the infatuation of first love is past ; when you turn from her and face the world, as one day you must do, you will blush to say, “ This is my wife.” Every word from her mouth will be a pang to your pride. You will follow her movements with terror—the contempt and deri¬ sion she excites will rouse you first to remorse, and then to hatred— and from the bed to which you go with a blessing, you will rise with a curse. Hard Mother ! mother! [Throws himself in chair. Mrs . C To Anne you have acted a heartless and dishonorable part— her name is already coupled with yours at every fireside in Kerry Enter Servant, l. door in flat. Serv Mr. Corrigan, ma’am. Mrs. C He comes for his answer. Show him in. [Exit Servant, l. door in flat. The hour has come, Hardress—what answer shall I give him ? Hard Refuse him—let him do his w r orst. Mrs. G And face beggary ! On what shall we live ? I tell you th« prison for debt is open before us. Can you work ? No ! Will you enlist as a soldier, and seed your wife into service ? We are ruined— d’ye hear?—ruined ! I must accept this man only to give you and yours a shelter, and under Corrigan's roof I may not be asl.amwl perhaps, to receive your wife. Entxr Servant, showing in Mr. Corrigan, l. door tn flat . COLLEEN BAWN. 21 Corrig [l.] Good morning, ma'am ; I am punctual, you perceive. Mrs. C [o.] We have considered your offer, sir, and we see no alter- ■ative -but—but - Corrig Mrs. Cregan, I’m proud, ma’am, to take your hand. Hard [ Starting up.] Begone—begone, I say ; touch her, and I’ll brain you! Corng Squire ! Sir ! Mr. Hardress ! Haid Must I hurl you from the house ? / Enter two Servants, door in flat. Mrs. 0 Hardress, my darling boy, restrain yourself. Corrig Good morning, ma’am. I have my answer. [To Servant.! Is Miss Chute within ? Serv No, sir - she’s just galloped out of the stable yard. Corrig Say I called to see her. I will wait upon her at this houi to-morrow. [ Looking at the Cregans .] To-morrow ! to-morrow ! [Exit, followed by Servants, l. door in flat. Mrs. C To-morrow will see us in Limerick Jail, and this house in the hands of the sheriff. Hard Mother, heaven guide and defend me ! let me rest for a while —you don’t know all yet, and I have not the heart to tell you. [Crosses l. Mrs. C With you. Hardress, I can bear anything—anything—but four humiliation and your unhappiness— Hard I know it, mother, I know it. [Exit, l. 1 e. Music. Danny appears at window , r., in flat. Danny Whisht—missiz—whisht. Mrs. C [l. c.] Who’s there? Danny It’s me, sure, Danny—that is—I know the throuble that’s tn it. I’ve been through it all wid him. Mrs. C You know, then ? Danny Everything, ma’am ; and, sure, I slitruv hard and long to impache him from doing it. Mrs. C Is he, indeed, so involved with this girl that he will not give her up? Danny No ; he’s got over the worst of it, but she holds him tight, and he feels kindly and soft-hearted for her, and daren’t do what another would. Mrs. C Dare not? Danny Sure she might be packed off across the wather to Ameriky, or them parts beyant ? Who’d ever ax a word afther her ? barrin the masther, who’d murdlier me if he knew I whispered such a thing. Mrs. C But would she go? Danny Ow, ma’am, wid a taste of persuasion, we a mulvatnei hei aboord. But there’s another way again, and it ye d only coax the masther to send me his glove, he’d know the manin of that token, and so would I. Mrs. C His gl ove? Danny Sorra a ha’porth else. If he’ll do that, I 11 take my oath ye’ll hear no more of the Colleen Bawn. Mrs. C I’ll see ray son. [Exit l. d. r. Danny Taru an’ ’ouns, that lively girl. Miss Chute, has crons tn# 22 COLLEEN BAWN. road to Muckross Head ; I’ve watched her— I’ve got my eye on afl of them. If she sees Eily—ow, ow, sh>j"ilget the ring itself in thal helpin’ maybe, of kale-canon. By the piper. I’ll run across the lake, and get there first; she’s got a long round to go, and the wind rising —a purty blast entirely. [Goes to window — Music. Re-enter Mrs. Cregan, l. d. f., with glow. Mrs. C [Aside ] I found his gloves in the hall, where he Had thitj m them in his hat. Danny Did ye ax him, ma’am ? Mrs. C I did—and here is the reply. [Holds out glove Danny He has changed his mind, then ? Mrs. C He has entirely. Danny And—and—I am—to—do it ? Mrs. C That is the token. Danny I know it—I’ll keep my promise. I’m to make away witt her ? Mrs. O Yes, yes—take her away—away with her ! [Exit Mrs. Cregan, l. door in flat. Danny Never fear, ma’am. [Going to window .] He shall never see or hear again of the Colleen Bawn. [Exit Danny through window — change. SCENE III .—Exterior of Eily's Cottage; Cottage, r. 3. e. ; set jpiec+^ backed by Lake ; table and two seats, r. 0. Sheelaii and Eily discovered, knitting. Sheelah [r.] Don’t cry, darlin’—don’t, alanna ! Eily [l.] He’ll never come back to me—I’ll never see him again, Sheelah! Sheelah Is it lave his own wife ? Eily I’ve sent him a letther by Myles, and Myles has never come back—I’ve got no answer—he won’t spake to me—I am standin’ betune him and fortune—I’m in the way of his happiness. I wish I was dead ! Sheelah Whisht! be thee husht! what talk is that? when I’m tuk sad that way, I go down to the chape-l and pray a turn—it lifts the cloud off my heart. Eily I can’t pray; I’ve tried, but unless I pray for him, I can’t bring my mine to it. Sheelah I never saw a colleen that loved as you love ; sorra come to me, but 1 b’lieve you’ve got enough to supply all Munster, and asore left over than would choke ye if you wern’t azed of it. Eily He’ll coine back—I’m sure he will ; I was wicked to doubt. Oh ! Sheelah ! what becomes of the girls he doesn’t love ? Is there anything goin’ on in the world where he isn't ? Sheelah There now —you’re smilin’ again. Eily I’m like the first mornin’ when he met me—there was dew on the young day’s eye—a smile on the lips o’ the lake. Hardresa will come back—oh ! yes ; he’ll never leave his poor Eily all alone by herself in this place. Whisht, now, an’ I’ll tell you [Music. COLLEEN BAWN. 98 Seng .— Air, “ Pretty Girl Milking her Ow.” 'Twas on a bright morning in summer, I first heard his voice speaking low, As he said to a colleen beside me,^ “ Who’s that pretty girl milking her cow f" And many times after he met me, And vowed that I always should be His own little darling alanna, Mavourneen a sweelish machree. I haven’t the manners or graces Of the girls in the world where ye move, I haven’t their beautiful faces, But I have a heart that can love. If it plase ye, I’ll dress in satins, And jewels I’ll put on my brow, But don’t ye be after forgettin’ Your pretty girl milking her cow. Sheelah Ah, the birds sit still on the boughs to listen to be;, and the trees stop whisperin’ ; she leaves a mighty big silence behind hei voice, that nothin’ in nature wants to break. My blessin’ on the path before her—there’s an angel at the other end of it. [Exit Sheelah in cottage , a. Eily [Repeats last line of song.] Enter Anne Chute, l. u. e. Anne There she is. Eily [Sings till facing Anne — stops—they examine each other.] Anne My name is Anne Chute. Eily I am Eily O'Connor. Anne You are the Colleen Bawn—the pretty girl. Eily And you are the Colleen Ruaidh. Anne [Aside.] She is beautiful. Eily [Aside.] How lovely she is. Anne We are rivals. Eily I am sorry for it. Anne So am l, for I feel that I could have loved you. Eily That’s always the way of it; everybody wants to lo»e me Dut there’s something spoils them off. Anne [Showing letter.] l)o you know that writing ? Eily I do, ma’am, well, though I don’t know how you came ^Anne I saw your signals last night—I saw his departure, and 1 have come here to convince myself of his falsehood to me But now that I have seen you, you have no longer a rival in his love, for 1 despise him with all my heart, who could bring one so beautiful and simple as you are to ruin and shame! Eily He didn’t—no—I am his wife 1 Ob, what have I said I Anne What? Eily Oh, I didn’t mane to confess it—no, I didn t! but you wrung tt from me in defense ot him. Amu You his wife ? M COLLEEN BAWN. Enter Danny, l. u. b Danny [At back — wide.] The divil! they’re at it—an’ Tia toe late 1 Anne I can not believe this—show me your certificate. Edy Here it is. Danny [Advances between them.] Didn’t you swear to the priest that it should niver lave your breast ? Anne Oh ! you’re the boatman. Danny Iss, ma’am 1 Anne Eily, forgive me for doubting your goodness, and your purity I believe you. Let me take your hand. [Crosses to her.] While the heart of Anne Chute beats, you have a friend that won’t be spoiled off, but you have no longer a rival, mind that. All I ask of you is that you will never mention this visit to Mr. Daly—and for you [To Danny] this will purchase your silence. [Gives money.] Good-by! [Exit Anne, l. u. k. Danny Long life t'ye. [Aside.] What does it mane ? Hasn’t she found me out? Eily Why did she ask me never to spake to Mr. Daly of her visi here ? Sure I don t know any Mr. Daly. Danny Didn’t she spake of him before, dear ? Eily Never! Danny Nor didn’t she name Master Hardress? Eily W^ll, I don’t know ; she spoke of him and of the letter I wrote to him, but I b’lieve she never named him intirely. Danny [Aside.] The divil’s in it for sport; she’s got ’em mixed yet. Enter Siieelau from cottage , r. Sheelah What brings you back, Danny? Danny Nothing ! but a word I have from the masther for the Col¬ leen here. Eily Is it the answer to the letter I sent by Myles? Danny 1 hat’s it, jewel, ho sent me wid a message. Sheelah [c.] Somethin’ bad has happened. Danny, you are at pale as milk, and your eye is full of blood—yez been drinkin’. Danny May be I have. Sheelah You thrimble, and can’t spake straight to me. Oh ! Daa- ny, what is it, avick ( Danny Goon now, an’ stop ycr keenin’. Eily Faith, it isn’t yourself that’s in it, Danny; sure there’s aothing happened to Hardress ? Danny Divil a word, good or bad, I’ll say while the mother’s there. Sheelah I’m goin’. [Aside.] What’s come to Danny this day, at all, at all; bedad, I don’t know my own fieslx and blood. [Runs into cottage. Danny Sorro’ and ruin has come on the Cregans ; they’re broke Intirely. Eily Oh, Danny. Danny Whisht, now ! You are to meet Masther Hardress this evenin', at a place on the Divil’s Island, beyant. Ye'll niver breathe a word to a mortal where yer goin', d’ye mind, now ; but COLLEEN BAWN. 26 iiip down, unbeknown, to the landin’ below, where I’ll have the boat waitin' for yez. Eily At what hour ? Danny Just after dark; there’s no moon to-night, an’ no one will 6ee us crossin’ the water. [Music till end of scene. Edy I will be there ; I’ll go down only to the little chapel by the shore, and pray there ’till ye come. [Exit Eily, into cottage, r. Danny I’m wake and cowld ! What's this coma over me? Moth¬ er, mother, acushla. Enter Sheelah, r. Sheelah What is it, Danny ? Danny. [Staggering to table.] Give me a glass of spirits 1 [Falls in chair—Change quickly. SCENE IV,— The old Weir Bridge , or a Wood on the verge of the Lalt [l«f grooves.] Enter Anne Chute, r. Anne Married ! the wretch is married ! and with that crime al¬ ready on his conscience he was ready for another and similar piece of villainy. It’s the Navy that does it. It’s my belief those sailors have a wife in every place they stop at. Myles [Sings outside , m,. | “ Oh ! Eily astoir, my love is all crost, Like a bud in the frost." Anne Here’s a gentleman who ha,s got my complaint—his love if all crost, like a bud in the frost. Enter Myles, r. Myles “ And there’s no use at all in my goin’ to bed, For it’s drames, and not sleep, that comes into my head, And it’s all about you," etc., etc. Anne My good friend, since you can’t catch your love, d’ye think you could catch my horse ? [Distant thunder. Myles Is it a black mare wid a white stockin on the fore off leg ? Anne I dismounted to unhook a gate—a peal of thunder frightened her, and she broke away. Myles She’s at Tore Cregan stables by this time—it was an adml ration to watch her stride across the Phil Dolan’s bit of plough. Anne And how am I to get home ? Myles If I had four legs, I wouldn’t ax betther than to carry ye, and a proud baste I’d be. [Thunder — rain. A'gie The 6torm is coming down to the mountain—is there no shelter near ? Myles There may be a corner in this ould chapel. [Rain.] Hera comes the rain--murdher ! ve’H be wet through. [Music—pulls of coat.] Put this round yez Anne What will you do? You’ll catch your death of cold. Myles [Taking out bottle.] Cowld is it ? Here s a wardrobe of top coata. [Thunder.] Whoo ! this is a line time for the water—this way, ma’am. [Exeunt Myles and Anne, l. Enter Eily, cloak and hood , r. Eily. Here’s the place where Danny was to meet me with the boat Oh i here he is. 26 COLLEEN BAVYN. Enter Danny, L. flow pale you are! Danny The thunder makes me sick. Eily Shall v,e not wait till the storm is over ? Danny If it comes on bad we can put into the Divil s island Cavo Eily I feel so happy that I am going to see him, yet there is v weight about my heart that I can’t account for. Danny 1 can. [Aside.} Are you ready now V Eily Yes; come—come. Danny [ Staggering ] I’m wake yet. Mr thioat is dry—if I’d ft draught of wnisky now. Eii.y Sheelah gave you a bottle. Danny I forgot—it’s in the boat. [Rain. Eily Here comes the rain—we shall get wet. Danny There’s the masther’s boat cloak below. Eily Come, Danny, lean on me. I’m afraid you are not sober enough to sail the skiff. Danny Sober! The dlirunker I am, the better I can do the work I've got to do. Eily Come, Danny, come—come. [Exeunt Eily and Danny, r.— Music ceases. Re-enter Anne Chute and Myles, l. Myles It was only a shower, I b’lieve—are ye wet, ma’am ? Anne. Dry as a biscuit. Myles Ah! then it’s yerself is the brave and beautiful lady—at bould an’ proud as a ship before the blast. [Anne looks off , r. Anne Why, there is my mare, and who comes with—[CVosses to b. Myles It’s Mr. Hardress Cregan himself. Anne Hardress here ? Myles Eily gave me a letter for him this morning. Enter Hardress, r. Hard Anne, what has happened? Your horse galloped wildly into the stable—we thought you had been thrown. Myles Here is a lether Eily tould me to give him. [To Hardress.] I beg your pardon, sir, but here’s the taste of a lether I was axed to giye your honor. [Gives letter. Hard [Aside. | From Eily ! Anne Thanks, my good fellow, for your assistance. Myles Not at all, ma’am. Sure, there isn’t a boy in the County Kerry that would not give two thumbs off his hands to do ? service to the Colleen Iiuaidh, as you are called among us—i?s indeed, ma’am. [Going — aside.} Ah ! then it’s the purty girl she is, in them long clothes. [Exit Myles, r. Hard [Reads, aside.} “ I am the cause of your ruin ; I can't live with that thought killin’ me If I do not see you before night you will never again be throubled with your poor Eily." Little simple¬ ton ! she is capable of doing herself an injury. Anne Hardress! I have been very blind and very foolish, but to¬ day I have learned to know my own heart. r l here’s my hand ; I wish to seal my fate at once l know the delicacy which prompted COLLEEN BAWN. 27 fou to release me from my engagement to you. I don’t accept that release ; I am yours. Hard Anne, you don’t know all. Anne I know more than I wanted, that’s enough. I forbid yon ever to speak on this subject. Hard You don’t know my past life. Anne And I don’t want to know. I’ve had enough of looking inte past lives ; don’t tell me anything you wish to forget. Hard Oh, Anne—my dear cousin ; if I could forget—if silence oould be oblivion. [ Exeunt Hardress and Anne, l. SCENE V. —Exterior of Myles' Hut. [Is? grooves.] Enter Myles, r., singing “ Brian O' Linn." “ Brian O’Linn had no breeches to wear, So he bought him a sheepskin to make him a pair; The skinny side out, the woolly side in, ‘They are cool and convanient,’ said Brian O’Linn.” [Locks door of cabin.] Now I’ll go down to my whisky-still. It is under my feet this minute, bein’ in a hole in the rocks they call O’Donoghue’s stables, a sort of water cave ; the people around here think that the cave is haunted with bad spirits, and they say that of a dark stormy night strange unearthly noises is heard cornin’ out of it—it is me singing, “ The night before Larry was stretched.” Now I’ll go down to that cave, and wid a sod of live turf under a kettle of worty, I’ll invoke them spcrrits -and what's more, they'll come. [Exit Myl 1 s, singing , r. Music till Myles begins to speak next scejie. SCENE VI.— A Cave ; through large opening at back is seen the Lake and the Moon ; rocks r and l. — flat rock, R. c. ; gauge waters all over stage ; rope hanging from c. , hitched on wing, r. u. e. Enter Myles, singing, top of rock, r. u. e. Myles And this is a purty night for my work ! The smoke ot my whisky-still will not be seen ; there’s my distillery beyant in a snug hole up there, [Unfastens rope, l.] and here’s my bridge to cross over to it. I think it would puzzle a gauger to folly me : this is a patent of my own — a tight-rope bridge. [Swings across from r. to l.] Now I tie up my drawbridge at this side till I want to go back—what’s that —it was an otter I woke from a nap he was takin’ on that bit of rock there—ow! ye divil ! if I had my gun I d give ye a leaden supper. I’ll go up and load it, may be I'll get a shot; them stones is the place where they lie out of a night, and many a one I’ve shot of them. [ Music.—Disappears up rock , l u. e. Eily What place is this you have brought me to? Danny Never fear—I know where I’m goin’—step out on that rock ■—mind yer footin’; ’tis wet there. Eily I don’t like this place—it’s like a tomb. Danny Step out, I say ; the boat is laking. [Eily steps on to rock , r. c. Eily Why do you spake to me so rough and cruel ? 28 COLLEEN BAWN. Dauiy Eily, I have a word to say t’ye ; listen now, and don’t trie* ble that way. Eily I won’t, Danny — I won’t. Danny Wonst, Eily, I was a fine brave boy, the pride of my ould mother her white haired-darlin’—you wouldn’t think it to look at me now D'ye know how I got changed to this ? Eily It es, Hardress told me. Danny He done it — but I loved him before it, an’ I loved him af¬ ter it—not a dhrop of blood I have, but I'd pour out like wather for the masther. Eily I know what you mean — as he has deformed your body — mined your life—made ye what ye are. Danny Have you, a woman, less love for him than I, that you wouldn’t give him what he wants of you, even if he broke your heart as he broke my back, both in a moment of passion? Did I ax him to ruin himself and his ould family, and all to mend my bones ? No ! I loved him, and I forgave him that. Eily Danny, what do you want me to do ? [Danny steps out on to rock. Danny Give me that paper in your breast? [Boat floats off slowly, r. Eily I can’t—I’ve sworn never to part with it! You know I have! Danny Eily, that paper stands between Hardress Cregan and his fortune ; that paper is the ruin of him. Give it, I tell yez. Eily Take me to the priest ; let him lift the oath off me. Oh, Danny, I swore a blessed oath on my two knees, and would ye ax m« to break that ? Danny [Seizes her hands.~\ Give it up, and don’t make me hurt ye. Eily I swore by my mother’s grave, Danny. Oh! Danny dear, don’t. Don’t, acushla, and I’ll do anything. See now, what good would it be ? sure, while I live I’m his wife. [Music changes. Danny Then you’ve lived too long. Take your marriage lines wio ye to the bottom of the lake. [He throws her from rock bac/cwards into the water , l. c., with a cry; she re¬ appears, clinging to rock. Eily No ! save me ! Don’t kill me 1 Don’t, Danny, I’ll do any¬ thing—only let me live. Danny He wants ye dead. [Pushes her off. Eily Oh, heaven! help me ! Danny—Dan— [aSi/iA*. Danny [Looking down.] I’ve done it — she’s gone. [■SAo* is fired, l. u. e.; he falls—rolls from the rock into the water , R. 0. Myles appears with gun, on rock, l. u. e. Myles I hit one of them bastes that time. I could see well, though it was so dark. But there was somethin’ moving on that stone, f Swings across to r. u. e.] Divil a sign of him. Stop ! [Looks down.] What’s this? It’s a woman—there’s something white there. [Fig¬ ure rises near rock , r. u. e.; kneels down; tries to take the hand of figure.] Ah ! that dress !—it’s Eily. My own darlin’ Eily. [Pulls off waistcoat — -jumps off rock . Eily rises, r. ; then Myle» and Eily rise up, c. ; he turns , and seizes rock , a. o.; Eily across Iff. am. COLLEEN BAWN. 29 ACT III. SCENE I .—Eyterior cf an Irish hut ; door and small opening , r. o. Door L. C. in flat. Truckle bed and bedding , r. c., on which Danny Mann is discovered, tablt with jug of water; lighted candle stuck in bottle , l. ; two stools— S hekla H at table, L. Music. Danny [In his sleep. ] Gi’ me the paper, thin—screeching won’t gave /e—down—down! [ Wakes.] Oh, mother! darlin’mother I Sheelah [ Waking. ] Eh ! did ye call me, Danny? Danny Gi’ me a dhrop of wather—it’s the thirst that’s a killin’ tne. Sheelah [Takes jug.] The fever's on ye mighty bad. Danny [Drinks, falls back, groans.] Oh, the fire in me won’t go out 1 How long have I been here ? Sheelah Ten days this night. Danny Ten days dis night! Have I been all that time out of my mind ? Sheelah Iss, Danny. Ten days ago. that stormy night, ye crawled In at that dure, wake an’ like a ghost. Danny I remind me now. Sheelah Ye tould me that ye'd been poachin’ salmon, and had been shot by the keepers. Danny Who said I hadn’t ? Sheelah Divil a one ! Why did ye make me promise not to say a word about it ? Didn’t ye refuse even to see a doctor itself? Danny Has any one axed after me ? Sheelah No one but Mr. Hardress. Danny Heaven bless him ! Sheelah I told him I hadn’t seen ye, Mad bera ye are this day groan- h\’ when there’s great dfin’s up at Castle Chute. To-morrow the ftiasther will be married to Miss Arne Danny Married ! but—the—hi 9 — Sheelah Poor Eilv, ye mane ? Danny Hide the candle from jpj oyes—it’s painin’ me; shade it off. Go on, mother. Sheelah The poor Colleen 1 Ch, no, Danny, I knew she’d die of the love that was clickin' he\. He didn’t know how tindher she ffas when he gave her hard word. What was that message the nasther sent to her, 'ibut he wouldn’t let me hear? It was cruel, Danny, for it broke ncr heart entirely ; she went away that night, fcnd, two days after. a cloak was found floatin’ in the reeds, under Brikeen Bridge ■ nobody knew it but me. I turned away, and never said—. The creature is drowned, Danny, and woe to them as dhruv her to it. She has no father, no mother to put a curse on him, but the Father above that niver spakes till the last day, and then— [She turns ar>J sees Dans 7 gasping, his eyes fixed on her, supporting himselj on his arm ] Danny ! Danny ! he’s dyin’—he’s dyin’ ! [Runs to hint, r f bed. Danny Who said tnat ? Ye lie! I never killed her—sure he Mat tee the glove —where is it ? Sheelah He’s ravin’ again. 80 COLLEEN BAWN. Danny The glove—he sent it to me full of blood. On, master, dear, there’s your token. I told ye I would clear the path foreninsl ye. Sheelah Danny, what d'ye mane? Danny I’ll tell ye how I did it, masther ; ’twas dis way—but don’t smile like dat—don’t, sir ! Sbe wouldn’t give me de marriage lines, so I sunk her and her proofs wid her. She's gone! sue came up wonst, but I put her down agin. Never fear—she’ll never throuble yer again—never—never ! [Lies down; mutters. Sheelah on her knees, in horror and prayer. Sheelah ’Twas he ! he !—my own son—he’s murdered her, and he’s djin’ now—dyin,’ wid blood on his hands ! Danny ! Danny ! spake lo me ! Danny A docther ! will they let me die like a baste, and never a docther ? Sheelah I’ll run for one that’ll cure ye. Oh, weerasthrue, Danny 1 Ts it for this I’ve loved ye ? No, forgive, acushla, it isnT your own mother that ’ud add to yer heart-breakin’ and pain. I’ll fetch tht docther, avick. [Music—puts on cloak, and pulls hood over her head.] Oh, hone ! oh, hone ! [Exit Sheelah, l. door in flat—a pause — knock — pause — knock. Enter Corrigan, door in flat, l. c Corrig Sheelah ! Sheelah ! Nobody here? I’m bothered entirely. The cottage on Muckross Head is empty—not a sowl in it but a cat. Myles has disappeared, and Danny gone—vanished, bedad, like a fog —Sheelah is the only one remaining. I called to see Miss Chute ; I was kicked out. 1 sent her a letter ; it was returned to me, un¬ opened. Her lawyer has paid off the mortgage, and taxed my bill ol costs—the spalpeen ! [Danny groansh\ What’s that? Some one is asleep there. ’Tis Danny ! Danny A docther !—gi’ me a docther ! Corrig Danny here—concealed, too ! Oh, there’s something going on that’s worth peepin’ into. Whist! there’s footsteps cornin’. If I could hide a bit. I’m a magistrate, an’ I ought to know what’s goin’ on—here’s a turf-hole, wid a windy in it. [Exit Corrigan, opening in flat, r. c. Enter Sheelah and Father Tom, l. c. door. Sheelah [Goes to Danny.] Danny ! Danny Is that you, mother ? Sheelah I’ve brought the docther, astliore [Danny looks up. Danny The priest! Sheelah [On her knees, r. of bed.] Oh, my darlin’! don’t be angry wid me, but dis is the docther you want; it isn’t in your body where '.he hurt is ; the wound is in your poor sowl—there’s all the harium Father T Danny, my son—[&'? sl. of bed .]—it’s sore-hearted I am to aee you down this way. Sheelah And so good a son he was to his ould mother. Danny Don t say that—don’t! [Covering his face. Sheelah I will say it—my blessin’ on ye—see that, now, he’s cryin* Father T Danny, the hand of death is on ye. Will ye lave yom sins behind ye here below, or will ye take them with ye above, to show them on ye? Is there anything ye can do that’ll mend a wrong? leave that legacy to your friend, and he’ll do it. Do ye COLLEEN BAWN. 31 want pardon of any one down here ? tell me, avick ; I’ll get it for y« and send it after you—may be ye’ll want it. Danny [Rising up on arm.] I killed Eily O’Connor. Sheelah [Covers her face with her hands. ] Oh ! oh ! Father T What harrum had ye agin the poor Colleen Bawn ? [Corrigan takes notes Danny She stud in his way, and he had my heart and sowl in hie keeping. Father T Hardress ? Danny Hisself! I said I’d do it for him, if he’d give me the token Father T Did Hardress employ you to kill the girl ? Danny He sent me the glove ; that was to be the token that I was Vo put her away, and I did—I—in the Pool a Dhiol. She would not £i’ me the marriage lines ; I threw her in and then I was kilt. Father T Killed ! by whose hand ? Danny I don’t know, unless it was the hand of heaven. Father T [Rising, goes down — aside.] Myles naCoppaleen is at the bot¬ tom of this ; his whisky-still is in that cave, and he has not been seen for ten days past. [Aloud—goes to Danny.] Danny, after ye fell, how did ye get home ? Danny I fell in the wather ; the current carried me to a rock ; how long I was there half drowned I don’t know, but on wakin’ I found my boat floatin' close by, an’ it was still dark ; I got in and crawled here. Father T [Aside.] I’ll go and see Myles—there’s more in this than has come out. Sheelah Won’t yer riverince say a word of comfort to the poor boy f He’s i-n great pain entirely. Father T Keep him quiet, Sheelah. [Music.] I’ll be back again with the comfort for him. Danny, your time is short; make the most of it. [Aside.] I'm off to Myles na Coppaleen. Oh, Hardress Cregan— [Going up] —ye little think what a bridal day ye’ll have ! [Exit door in flat, l. o. Corrig [ Who has been writing in note-hook , comes out at back.] I’ve got down every word of the confession. Now, Hardress Cregan, there svill be guests at your weddin’ to-night ye little dlirame of. [Exit l. door in flat , l. c. Danny [Rising up.] Mother, mother 1 the pain is on me. Wathei —quick—wather! [Srreelaii runs to l. table; takes jug; gives it to Danny ; he drinks; Sh**» lah takes jug ; Danny struggles—falls back on bed; close on picture. SCENE II.— Chamber in Castle Chute. [Is2 Grooves.] Enter Kyrle Daly and Servant, r. Kyrle Inform Mrs. Cregan that I am waiting upon her. Enter Mrs. Cregan, l. Mrs. C I am glad to see you, Kyrle. [Exit Servant, i* Kyrle [r. c.] You sent for me, Mrs. Cregan. My ship sails from Liverpool to-morrow. I never thought I could be so anxious to quit my native land. Mrs. C I want vou to set Hardma*. For ten days past he shuns th* 82 COLLEEN BAWN. society of his bride. By night he creeps out alone in his boat an the lake—by day he wanJers round the neighborhood, pale as death. He is heart-broken. Kyrle Has ye asked to see me ? Mrs. C Yesterday he asked where you were. Kyrle Did he forget that I left your house when Miss Chute, with¬ out a word of explanation, behaved so unkindly to me? Mrs. C She is not the same girl since she accepted Hardress. She quarrels—weeps—complains, and has lost her spirits. Kyrle She feels the neglect of Hardress Anne [ Without , r.] Don’t answer me ! Obey, and hold your tongue! Mrs. C Do you hear ? she is rating one c#f the seivants. Anne [ Without.] No words—I’ll have no sulky looks, neither. Enter Anne, r. , dressed as a bride, with a vail and wreath in her hand. Anne Is ihat the vail and wreath I ordered ? How dare you tell me that? [Throws it off , r. Mrs. C Anne 1 [Anne sees Kyrle— stands confused. Kyrle You are surprised to see me in your house, Miss Chute ? Anne You are welcome, sir. Kyrle [A.side .] She looks pale ! She’s not happy—that’s gratifying. Anne [ Aside .] He doesn’t look well—that’s some comfort. Mrs. C I’ll try to-flnd Hardress. [Exit Mrs. Cregan, l. Kyrle I hope you don’t, think I intrude—that is—I came to see Mrs. Cregan. Anne [Sharply.] I don’t flatter myself you wished to see me ; why should you ? Kyrle Anne, I am sorry I offended you ; I don’t know what I did, but no matter. Anne Not the slightest. Kyrle I released your neighborhood of my presence. Anne Yes, and you released the neighborhood of the presence of somebody else—she and you disappeared together. Kyrle She 1 Anne Never mind. Kyrle But I do mind. I love Hardress Cregan as a brother, and J hope the time may come, Anne, when I can love you as a sister. Anne Do you? I don’t. Kyrle I don't want the dislike of my friend’s wife to part my friend and me. Anne Why should it? I’m nobody. Kyrle If you were my wife, and asked me to hate any one, I’d do it—I couldn’t help it. Anne I believed words like that once when you spoke them, but ] have been taught how basely you can deceive. KyrU Who ta aght you ? Anne Who?—your wife. Kyrle My what? Anne Your wife—the girl you concealed in the cottage on Muck- rose Head. Stop, now—don’t speak—save a falsehood, howeve; many ye may have to spare. I saw the girl—she confessed. Kyrle Confessed that she was my wife ? Anne Make a clean breast of it in a minute, which is more than yoe xraid do with a sixteen-foot wagon and a team of ten, in a week. COLLEEN BAWN U Kyrle Anne, hear me ; this is a frightful error- the girl will &o< repeat it. Anne Bring her before me and let her speak. Kyrle How do I know where she is ? Anne Well, bring your boatman then, who told me the same. Kyrle I tell you it is false ; I never saw—never knevr the girl. Anne You did not? [*SVio?rs Eily’s letter.] Do you know that? You dropped it, and I found it. Kyrle [ Takes letter.] This ! \Reads. Enter Hardress, l. Anne Hardress ! [ Turns aside. Kyrle Oh ! [Suddenly struck with the truth ; glances towards Anne ; find- til g her looking away , places letter to Hardress.] Do you know that ?— you dropped it. Hard [Comcals letter .] Eh? Oh! Kyrle ’Twas he. [ Looks from one to the other] She thinks me guilty ; but if I stir to exculpate myself, he is in for it. Hard You look distressed, Kyrle. Anne, what is the matter? Kyrle Nothing, Hardress. I was about to ask Miss Chute to for get a subject which was painful to her, and to beg of her never to mention it again—not even to you, Hardress. Hard I am sure she will deny you nothing. Anne I will forget, sir. [Aside.] But I will never forgive him— never. Kyrle [Aside.] She loves me still, and he loves another, and I am the most miserable dog that ever was kicked. [Crosses to l.] Har¬ dress, a word with you. [Exeunt Kyrle and Hardress, l. Annie And this is my wedding day. There goes the only man 1 ever loved. When he’s here near by me, I could give him the worst treatment a man could desire, and when he goes away he takes the heart and all of me off with him, and 1 feel like an unfurnished house. This is pretty feelings for a girl to have, and she in her regimentals. Oh! if he wasn’t married—but he is, and he’d have married me as well—the malignant! Oh ! if he had, how I’d have made him swing for it—it would have afforded me the hap piest moment of my life. i Exit anne, l. Music. SCENE III. —Exterior of Myles's Hut, doo" / v. flat. [2 nd grooves.] Enter Father 7jv., f ather T Here’s Myle’s shanty. r ’rj pearly killed with dim bin tue hill. I wonder is he at home ? Yes the