Lapas attēli

Don. Tey vill spend ter heart in ter belly for tee, as vell as ter legs in ter heelsh.

Der. By creesh, tey vill shpend all teyr cowesh for tee.

Den. Pre tee make mush on t'em.
Pat. Pre tee, sweet faysh, do.
Don. Be not angry vit te honesh men, for te few
rebelsh, and knavesh.

Pat. Nor beleeve no tayles, king Yamish.
Der. For, by got, tey love tee in Ireland.

Don. Predee, bid 'em welcome, and got make 'em rish for tee.

Der. Tey vill make tem shelves honesht.

Den. Tou hasht not a hundret tousand sush men, by my trote.

Pat. No, nor forty, by my hant.
Don. By justish Delounes hant, not twenty.

Der. By my lord Deputish hant, not ten, in all ti great Brittayne. Shall I call hem to tee?

Don. Tey shit like poore men i' te porsh yonder.

Pat. Shtay, tee peepe ish come! (Bagpipe, &c. enter.] harke, harke!

Der. Let ush daunsh ten. Daunsh, Dennish.
Den. By creesh saʼme, I ha' forgot.
Don. A little till our mayshtersh be ready.

Here the Footmen had a DANCE, being six men, and six

boys, to the bagpipe, and other rude music; after which they had a Song, and then they cried,

Peash! Peash! Now room for our mayshters! Room for our mayshters !

Then the Gentlemen dance forth a dance in their

Irish mantles, to a solemn music of harps : which done, the Footmen jall to speak again. Der. How like tou tish, Yamish ? and tey had

fine cloyshs now, and liveries, like tine own men
ant be!

Don. But te rugs make t'em shrug a little.
Der. Tey have shit a great phoyle i' te cold, ant be.
Don. Isht not pity te cloysh be drown'd now?
Pat. Pre tee shee another daunsh, and be not veary.



Here they were interrupted by a civil Gentleman of

the nation, who brought in a Bard. Gent. He may be of your

rudeness. Hold

And let your coarser manners seek some place,
Fit for their wildness: this is none; be gone!

Advance, immortal Bard, come up and view
The gladding face of that great king, in whom
So many prophecies of thine are knit.
This is that James of which long since thou sung’st,
Should end our countries' most unnatural broils;
And if her ear, then deafen'd with the drum,
Would stoop but to the music of his peace,
She need not with the spheres change harmony.
This is the man thou promisd'st should redeem,
If she would love his counsels as his laws,
Her head from servitude, her feet from fall,
Her fame from barbarism, her state from want,
And in her all the fruits of blessings plant.
Sing then some charm, made from his present looks,
That may assure thy former prophecies,
And firm the hopes of these obedient spirits,
Whose love no less than duty hath call'd forth
Their willing powers : who if they had much more,
Would do their all, and think they could not move
Enough to honour that, which he doth love.

Here the Bard sings to two harps.

Bow both your heads at once, and hearts;

Obedience doth not well in parts.
It is but standing in his eye,

You'll feel yourselves chang'd by and by.
Few live, that know, how quick a spring

Works in the presence of a king :
'Tis done by this; your slough let fall,

And come forth new-born creatures all.
During this Song, the Masquers let fall their mantles,
and discover their masquing apparel.

Then they dance forth.

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So breaks the sun earth's rugged chains,

Wherein rude winter bound her veins ;
So grows both stream and source of price,

That lately fetter'd were with ice.
So naked trees get crisped heads,

And colour'd coats the roughest meads,
And all get vigour, youth, and spright,

That are but look'd on by his light.

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MERCURY VINDICATED.] From the folio, 1616. This is a very ingenious and pleasant little piece, but the author gives neither the date nor the occasion on which it was written. If he paid any attention to time in the arrangement of his Masques, the present must have been produced subsequently to the comedy of the Alchemist.

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