_Lord J._ I protest, sir, I cannot understand you. In one word, sir, I’m neither mad nor a fool!—Your most obedient (_going_, _angrily_). _Rory_ (_holding him_). Take care now; you are going mad with me again. But phoo! I like you the better for being mad. I’m very often mad myself, and I would not give a potato for one that had never been mad in his life. _Lord J._ (_aside_). He’ll not be quiet, till he makes me knock him down. _Rory_. Agh! agh! agh!—I begin to guess whereabouts I am at last. _Mad_, in your country, I take it, means fit for Bedlam; but with us in Ireland, now, ’tis no such thing; it mean’s nothing in life but the being in a passion. Well, one comfort is, my lord, as you’re a bit of a scholar, we have the Latin proverb in our favour—“_Ira furor brevis est_” (Anger is short madness). The shorter the better, I think. So, my lord, to put an end to whatever of the kind you may have felt against poor Talbot, I’ll assure you he’s as innocent o’ that unfortunate song as the babe unborn. _Lord J._ It is rather late for Mr. Talbot to make apologies to me. _Rory_. He make apologies! Not he, ’faith; he’d send me to Coventry, or, maybe, to a worse place, did he but know I was condescending to make this bit of explanation, unknown to him. But, upon my conscience, I’ve a regard for you both, and don’t like to see you go together by the ears. Now, look you, my lord. By this book, and all the books that were ever shut and opened, he never saw or heard of that unlucky song of mine till I came out with it this morning. _Lord J._ But you told me this morning that it was he who wrote it. _Rory_. For that I take shame to myself, as it turned out; but it was only a _white_ lie to _sa_rve a friend, and make him cut a dash with a new song at election time. But I’ve done for ever with white lies. _Lord J._ (_walking about as if agitated_). I wish you had never begun with them, Mr. O’Ryan. This may be a good joke to you; but it is none to me or Talbot. So Talbot never wrote a word of the song? _Rory_. Not a word or syllable, good or bad. _Lord J._ And I have given my promise to vote against him. He’ll lose his election. _Rory_. Not if you’ll give me leave to speak to your friends in your name. _Lord J._ I have promised to leave them to themselves; and Wheeler, I am sure, has engaged them by this time. _Rory_. Bless my body! I’ll not stay prating here then. (_Exit Rory_.) _Lord J._ (_follows_). But what can have become of Talbot? I have been too hasty for once in my life. Well, I shall suffer for it more than anybody else; for I love Talbot, since he did not make the song, of which I hate to think. (_Exit_.) SCENE III.