Note 25 — PREFACE.
Reading edition
The “Irish masque,” got up to compliment the absentees at the English court, is either a bitter satire, or a disgusting picture of the state of Irish society at that epoch. “The King being seated (says the programme) in expectation, out ran a fellow attired as a citizen, after him three or four footmen, Denis, Donnel, Dermoch, and Patrick,” the object of whose visit to London was not like that of many of the Denises and Patricks of the present day, to become either porters, or reporters, as the chances determined; but simply, as Donnel observes, ‘to see King Yamish,’ for which purpose ‘they had travelled a great way miles,’ having got the start of their lords or chiefs who had come over on the same loyal errand.
Der. I’ fayt, tere ish very much phoyt stick here stirring to night. He takes ush for no shquires I tinke.
Pat. No; he tinksh not ve be imbasheters.
Der. No, fayt, I tinke sho too. But tish marriage bring over a doshen of our besht mashters to be merry, perht tee shweet faish, an’t be; and daunsh a fading at te vedding.
Den. But tey vere leeke to daunsh naked, and pleash ty majesty; for tey villanous vild Irish sheas have casht away all ter fine cloysh, as many ash cosht a towsand cowes and garrans, I warrant tee.
Der. And te prishe of a cashtell or two upon teyr backs.
Don. And tey tell ty majesty, tey have ner a great fish now, nor a shea moynshter to save teyr cloyth alive now.
Pat. Nor a devoish vit a clowd to fesh’hem out o’ te bottom o’ te vayter.
Der. But tey musht eene come and daunsh in teyr mantles now; and show tee how tey can foot te fading and te fadow, and te phip a’ Dunboyne, I trow.
Don. I pree dee now, let not ty sweet faysh ladies make a mock on’ him, and scorn to daunsht vit ’hem now, becash tey be poor.
Pat. Tey drink no bonny clabber, i’ fayt now.
Don. It ish better ten usquebaugh to daunsh vit Patrick.
Pat. By my fater’s hand, tey vill daunsh very vell.
Der. Ay, by St. Patrick, vill tey; for tey be nimble men.
Den. And vill leap ash light, be creesh save me, ash he tat veares te biggest fethur in ty court, King Yamish.
Der. For all tey have no good vindsh to blow tem heter, nor elementsh to preserve hem.
Don. Nor all te four cornersh o’ te world to creep out on.
Pat. But tine own kingdomes.
Don. Tey be honesht men.
Pat. And goot men; tine own shubshects.
Der. Tou hast very good shubshects in Ireland.
Den. A great goot many, o’ great good shubshects.
Don. Tat love ty mayesty heartily.
Den. And vill run t’rough fire and vater for tee over te bog and te bannoke, be te graish o’ Got and graish o’ King.
Der. By Got tey will fight for tee, King Yamish, and for my mistiesh tere.
Den. And my little maishter. Paish, paish, now room for our mayshter.—Then the gentlemen dance forth a dance in their Irish mantles to a solemn music of harps, which done, the footmen fall to speak again.”