The Irish Masque at Court, BY GENTLEMEN, THE KING'S SERVANTS. 'THE IRISH MASQUE.] From the folio, 1616. It has no date. James had great merit in the whole of his conduct with respect to Ireland, which he governed with extraordinary care, and reduced from the state of distraction, in which the late Queen had left it, to a degree of tranquillity which it has not often experienced. This little piece is meant to compliment the country on its loyalty and attachment. The KING being set in expectation, out ran a fellow attired like a citizen: after him three or four footmen, DENNISE, DONNELL, DERMOCK, and PATKICK. Pat. For chreeshes sayk, phair ish te king? phich ish he, ant be? show me te shweet faish, quickly. By got, o' my conshence, tish ish he! ant tou be King Yamish, me name is Dennish, I sherve ti majesties owne cashtermonger, be me trote; and cry peepsh, and pomwatersh in ti mayesties shervice, 'tis five year now. Ant tou vilt not trush me now, call up ti clarke o' ti kitchen, be and be, shall give hish wort, upon hish book, ish true. Don. Ish it te fashion to beate te imbasheters here, and knoke 'hem o' te heads phit te phoit stick? Der. Ant make ter meshage run out at ter mouthsh, before tey spheake vit te king? Den. Peash, Dermock, here ish te king. Der. Phair ish te king? Der. Ish tat te king? Got blesh him! Den. Peash, and take heet vat tou shaysht, man. Der. Creesh blesh him, I shay. Phat reason I tayk heet for tat? Don. Creesh blesh ti shweet faish, King Yamish; and my mistresh faish too: pre te, hear me now. I am come a great vay of miles to shee te now, by my fayt and trote, and graish o' got. Den. Phat ish ti meaning o'tish, Donnell? didsh tou not shay, a gotsh name, I should tell ty tale for tee? ant entrayt me come to te court, and leave me vare at shixe ant seven? by got, ish true now. Don. Yesh. But I tanke got I can tell my tayle my shelfe, now I be here, I varrant tee: pre dee hear me, King Yamish. Den. Pre dee heare me, King Yamish : I can tell tee better ten he. Pat. Pre dee heare neder noder on 'hem: here'sh Dermock vill shpeake better ten eder oder on 'hem. Der. No, fayt, shweet hart, tow lyesht. Patrick here ish te vesht man of hish tongue, of all de foure; pre tee now heare him. Pat. By chreesh shave me, tow lyesht. I have te vorsht tongue in te company at thy shervish. Vill shome body shpeake? Don. By my fayt, I vill not. Der. By my goship's hand, I vill not. Den. If I speake, te divell tayke me. I vill give tee leave to cram my mout phit shamrokes and butter and vayter creshes instead of pearsh and peepsh. Pat. If nobody vill shpeake, I vill shpeake. Pleash ty shweet faish, wee come from Ireland. Der. Wee be Irish men, an't pleash 1 Munster. I mine one shelfe vash born in te English payle, and pleash ty mayesty. Pat. Sacrament o' chreesh, tell ty tale ty shelfe, and be all tree. Den. And pleash ty graish I vill tell tee, tere vash a great newesh in Ireland of a great brideal of one o' ty lords here ant be. Pat. Ty man Robyne, tey shay.2 Don. Mary ty man Toumaish, hish daughter, tey shay. Der. Ay, ty good man, Toumaish o' Shuffolke. Don. He knoke ush o' te payt here, ash we come by, by a good token. Der. I' fayt, tere ish very mush phoyt stick here stirring to-night. He takes ush for no shquires I tinke. Pat. No, he tinksh not ve be imbasheters. Don. No, fayt, I tinke sho too. But tish marriage bring over a doshen of our besht mayshters, to be merry perht tee shweet faish, an't be; and daunsh a fading3 at te vedding. I mine own shelfe vash born in the English payle.] The English pale was those parts of Ireland extended about Dublin, which in the reign of Henry II. were possessed by the English. This district was sometimes larger and sometimes less, in different ages, as the English or Irish power prevailed. But the counties of Louth, Dublin, Meath, Kildare, and Carlow, being for the most part obedient to the English laws, went under the more immediate denomination of the Pale.-WHAL Ty man Robyne.] This alludes to the marriage of the favourite, Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset, with the daughter of Thomas, Earl of Suffolk. This too celebrated lady was the divorced wife of Lord Essex: and the "brideal" of which Dennis speaks, took place on the 5th of December, 1613, so that the date of this Masque may be safely referred to the succeeding festival, or the commencement of the new year. In March, 1613, too, James had completed his plans for the pacification of Ireland; so that the appearance of the imbasheters"" was not ill-timed. The young Countess of Essex had already made the first step in her career of blood; but no murmur of it had yet reached the ear of James; and, as Wilson tells us, "all the splendid equipage, and magnificent preparation that could either fill a Court with delight or a people with admiration, were not wanting for the marriage." Other poets were, however, called in upon the occasion; and the only notice which Jonson appears to have taken of this ill-omened match is contained in the simple mention of the parties' names in the text. Den. But tey vere leeke to daunsh naked, ant pleash ty mayesty; for te villanous vild Irish sheas have casht away all ter fine cloysh, as many ash cosht a towsand cowes and garraves, I varrant tee. Der. And te prishe of a cashtell or two upon teyr backs. Don. And tey tell ty mayesty tey have ner a great fish now, nor a shea moynshter to shave teyr cloysh 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 teye can foot te fading and te fadow, and te phip a' Dunboyne, I trow. Don. I pre dee now let not ty sweet faysht ladies, make a mock on 'hem and scorn to daunsh vit 'hem now, becash tey be poor. Pat. Tey drink no bonny clabbe, i' fayt, now. Don. It ish better ten usquebagh4 to daunsh vit, Patrick. name to a dance frequently noticed by our old dramatists. Both the song and the dance appear to have been of a licentious kind, and merit no farther elucidation. It ish better ten usquebagh, &c.] The mention of this word brings to my mind a passage in the Devil's an Ass: "Chimney-sweepers To their tobacco and strong waters, Hum, Meath, and Obarni." The last of these (Obarni) I had supposed to be a preparation of usquebagh: (see vol. ii. D. 2166); whereas it appears to be a preparation of Meath. For this information I am indebted to the following extract from an old Pimlyco or Runne Red-Cap, 1609, kindly transmitted to me by my friend Mr. Boswell: poem, called "Nor all those drinkes of northern climes Now I am on the subject, I will subjoin a passage which has just occurred to me, and which gives a better explanation of Hum than will be found in the passage already quoted: "Notwithstanding the multiplicity of wines, yet there be stills and limbecks going, swetting out aquavita and strong waters, deriving their names from cinnamon, balm, and aniseed, such as stomach-water, humm, &c.-Heywood's And dance a fading.] This word, which was the burden of a popular Irish song, gave | Drunkard, p. 48. Don. Nor all te four cornersh o' te world, to creep out on. Pat. But tine own kingdomes. Pat. And goot men: tine own shubshects. Der. Tou hasht very good shubshects in Ireland. Den. A great goot many, o' great goot 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 vill fight for tee, King Yamish, and for my mistresh tere. Den. And my little maishter.1 Pat. And te vfrow, ty daughter, tat is in Tuchland. 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. Pray tee, bid 'em welcome, and got make 'em rish for tee. Der. They 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 Deloune's hant, not twenty. Der. By my lord Deputish hant, not ten in all ti great Britayne. Shall I call hem to tee? 1 And my little maisther] Charles; te yfrow, tat is in Tuchland, is the Princess Elizabeth, who was married to the Palsgrave in February, 1613. Don. Tey shit like poore men i' te porsh yonder. Pat. Shtay, te peepe ish come! [Bagpipe, &c. enter.] Harke, harke! Der. Let ush daunsh ten. Daunsh, Dennish. Den. By creesh sa' me, 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 fall 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 drowned now? be not veary. Pat. Pre tee shee anoter daunsh, and Here they were interrupted by a civil GENTLEMAN of the nation, who brought in a BARD. Gent. He may be of your rudeness. Hold your tongues, 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 deafened with the drum, Would stoop but to the music of his peace, She need not with the spheres change har mony. This is the man thou promis'dst should re deem, 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 blessing plant. It is but standing in his eye, You'll feel yourselves changed by and Few live that know how quick a spring Sing then some charm, made from his pre-During this Song the Masquers let fall sent looks, That may assure thy former prophecies, their mantles and discover their masquing apparel. Then they dance forth. After the dance the Bard sings this SONG. So breaks the sun earth's rugged chains, That lately fettered were with ice. And coloured coats the roughest meads, Thus it ended. [So carelessly is this Masque printed in the "shiede and seven" for ". shize and seven," and nine-volume edition that I have had to make no sweet faysh ladies" for "sweet faysht ladies," fewer than thirty alterations in the text. All and many others, which are interesting as show. these errors are slavishly copied in the one-ing the Irish mode of pronunciation temp. Jac. I, volume edition of Messrs. Moxon and Routledge, although they include such palpable blunders as F. C.] Mercury Vindicated from the Alchemists at Court. BY GENTLEMEN, THE KING'S SERVANTS. 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. forth our philosophers. He will be gone. He will evaporate. Dear Mercury! help. He flies. He is scaped. Precious golden Mercury, be fixt; be not so volatile! Will none of the Sons of Art appear? In which time MERCURY, having run once or twice about the room, takes breath, and speaks. Mer. Now the place and goodness of it protect me. One tender-hearted creature or other, save Mercury, and free him. Ne'er an old gentlewoman in the house that has a wrinkle about her to hide me in? I could run into a serving-woman's pocket now; her glove, any little hole. Some merciful vardingale among so many, From every head almost, how she is be bounteous and undertake me. I will stand close up anywhere to escape this polt-footed philosopher, old Smug here of Lemnos, and his smoky family. Has he given me time to breathe? O the variety of torment that I have endured in the reign of the Cyclops, beyond the most exquisite wit of tyrants! The whole household of them are become Alchemists, since their trade of armour-making failed them, only to keep themselves in fire, for this winter; for the mischief a secret that they know, above the consuming of coals, and drawing of usquebagh! howsoever they may pre had reason to put him in mind in one of his letters, that the burning of his study was a mere act of retaliation on the part of Vulcan. |