pardon, and Mr. Counsellor O'Blaney's.

_Mr. Carv._ And did not you give your consent?--I must think him a very
ill-used person.

_Old McB._ I gave my consint only in case he could win hers, plase your
honour, and he could _not_--and I could not break my own daughter's heart,
and I beg your honour's pardon.

_Mr. Carv._ I don't know how that may be, sir, but I gave my approbation
to the match; and I really am not accustomed to have my advice or opinion
neglected or controverted. Yet, on the other hand--

_Enter a Footman with a note, which he gives to Mr. CARVER._

_Old McB._ (_aside to PHIL_) Say something for me, Phil, can't ye?--I
hav'n't a word.

_Mr. Carv._ (_rising with a quicker motion than usual_) Bless me! bless
me!--here is a revolution! and a counter revolution!--Here's news will make
you all in as great astonishment as I own I am.

_Old McB._ What is it?

_Randal._ I'm made for life--I don't care what comes.

_Honor._ Nor I: so it is not to touch you, I'm happy.

_Catty._ Oh! your honour, spake quick, _this time_--I beg pardon!