Doran.  Dhat’s right.  No more meddlin.  We’re all right now:  all we want is to be let alone.

Cornelius.  Hwat about Home Rule?

Broadbent [rising so as to address them more imposingly].  I really cannot tell you what I feel about Home Rule without using the language of hyperbole.

Doran.  Savin Fadher Dempsey’s presence, eh?

Broadbent [not understanding him] Quite so—­er—­oh yes.  All I can say is that as an Englishman I blush for the Union.  It is the blackest stain on our national history.  I look forward to the time-and it cannot be far distant, gentlemen, because Humanity is looking forward to it too, and insisting on it with no uncertain voice—­I look forward to the time when an Irish legislature shall arise once more on the emerald pasture of College Green, and the Union Jack—­that detestable symbol of a decadent Imperialism—­be replaced by a flag as green as the island over which it waves—­a flag on which we shall ask for England only a modest quartering in memory of our great party and of the immortal name of our grand old leader.

Doran [enthusiastically].  Dhat’s the style, begob! [He smites his knee, and winks at Mat].

Matthew.  More power to you, Sir!

Broadbent.  I shall leave you now, gentlemen, to your deliberations.  I should like to have enlarged on the services rendered by the Liberal Party to the religious faith of the great majority of the people of Ireland; but I shall content myself with saying that in my opinion you should choose no representative who—­no matter what his personal creed may be—­is not an ardent supporter of freedom of conscience, and is not prepared to prove it by contributions, as lavish as his means will allow, to the great and beneficent work which you, Father Dempsey [Father Dempsey bows], are doing for the people of Rosscullen.  Nor should the lighter, but still most important question of the sports of the people be forgotten.  The local cricket club—­

Cornelius.  The hwat!

Doran.  Nobody plays bats ball here, if dhat’s what you mean.

Broadbent.  Well, let us say quoits.  I saw two men, I think, last night—­but after all, these are questions of detail.  The main thing is that your candidate, whoever he may be, shall be a man of some means, able to help the locality instead of burdening it.  And if he were a countryman of my own, the moral effect on the House of Commons would be immense! tremendous!  Pardon my saying these few words:  nobody feels their impertinence more than I do.  Good morning, gentlemen.

He turns impressively to the gate, and trots away, congratulating himself,, with a little twist of his head and cock of his eye, on having done a good stroke of political business.

Haffigan [awestruck].  Good morning, sir.

The rest. Good morning. [They watch him vacantly until he is out of earshot].