O'FLAHERTY. Won't I, faith! I've been as good as married to a
couple of them already.

MRS O'FLAHERTY. The Lord be praised, what wickedness have you
been up to, you young blackguard?

O'FLAHERTY. One of them Frenchwomen would cook you a meal twice
in the day and all days and every day that Sir Pearce himself
might go begging through Ireland for, and never see the like of.
I'll have a French wife, I tell you; and when I settle down to be
a farmer I'll have a French farm, with a field as big as the
continent of Europe that ten of your dirty little fields here
wouldn't so much as fill the ditch of.

MRS O'FLAHERTY [furious]. Then it's a French mother you may go
look for; for I'm done with you.

O'FLAHERTY. And it's no great loss you'd be if it wasn't for my
natural feelings for you; for it's only a silly ignorant old
countrywoman you are with all your fine talk about Ireland: you
that never stepped beyond the few acres of it you were born on!

MRS O'FLAHERTY [tottering to the garden seat and showing signs of
breaking down]. Dinny darlint, why are you like this to me?
What's happened to you?

O'FLAHERTY [gloomily]. What's happened to everybody? that's what
I want to know. What's happened to you that I thought all the
world of and was afeard of? What's happened to Sir Pearce, that I