Having seen too much Villany in Scotland to pay the least Adoration to the Country, I return’d to London again, and after a short Stay there went for Highlake in Cheshire, where going on Board the Seaforth Gally, Sail was presently hoisted, and in a few Hours bidding Adieu to the Sight of Old England and Wales, we came to Anchor in the Bay of Dublin very early on a Whitsun-Monday in the Morning. Here I went ashore at Dunlary, and being got safe in that Part of Terræ firmæ, which, I think, is situated in podice Mundi, I went Five Miles farther to DUBLIN, the Metropolis of Ireland, standing on the Liffie River, as well as the Sea. This Country is seperated from England by a very dangerous Sea, in which meeting with a most dreadful Hurricane, as soon as the tempestuous Weather was over, my Muse incited me to delineate the Seamens Devotion in bad Weather, in the following Meditation.
But being got upon firm Land again, as I said before, I was very glad of visiting the Irish Natives, tho’ they are not yet wholly brought to a civil Course of Life, thro’ the Fathers inflicting an heavy Curse on all their Posterity, if ever they should sow Corn, build Houses, or learn the English Tongue: And the Reason of this inveterate Antipathy is, because heretofore there being but one Freeholder in a whole County, which was the Lord himself, the rest held in Villanage; and being subject to the Lord’s immeasurable Taxations, they had no Encouragement to build, sow, or plant. Ireland is divided into 4 Provinces; namely, Munster; Leinster, where Stonehenge once stood, but by Magick Art Merlin remov’d those ponderous Stones out of this Territory into Wiltshire; Connaught, where are some Vines, but rather serving for Shade than Profit, for in these Parts the Sun entring into Virgo, causeth cold Gales to blow, and in Autumn the Afternoon’s Heat is so faint and short, that it cannot ripen the Clusters; and Ulster, whose antient Custom in making their King was by taking a white Cow, which his Irish Majesty must kill, and seeth the same in Water whole, then must he bath himself therein stark naked; and sitting in the Caldron wherein it is sod, accompanied with the People round about him, he and they eat the Flesh, and drink the Broth (much Good may’t do ’em) without Cup, Dish or Spoon. No sooner was I arriv’d at Dublin, but being in Company with some Collegians of Trinity-College there, which is all the Colleges their University contains, they to shew their extraordinary Parts to me a Stranger in a poetick Way, made Verses ex tempore, and I to Oblige them writ off of Hand the following Lines.
This Satyr being Truth and Matter of Fact, how well it pleas’d the Irish Collegians may be easily guess’d, however taking leave of my learned Company, I went out to look about me in the City, where I star’d and gap’d around, like our Country Hicks upon the Signs in London, the Monument, or Tombs in Westminster-Abby. Ringsend Coaches, so call’d from a Place of that Name about a Mile or two out of the Dublinian Suburbs, I saw were more numerous than Hackney or Gentlemen’s Coaches; and which being a sort of Carts made with a Seat before, wherein People may be jolted 3 or 4 Miles for 2 Pence, your topping City Cuckolds and their Wives very often ride out of Town in ’em, to make a Demolition of Cakes and Ale. Being mounted next upon Lousie-Hill, and asking whence the Place deriv’d its Name, some knowing People inform’d me, that an old Woman once dwelling there, to whom honest St. Patrick, a Swineherd, and tutelary Patron of that Kingdom promis’d to clear that Nation of Lice, she fell a weeping, and humbly besought the good old Man not to destroy them, because the Inhabitants had no other Diversion on Sundays, than to sit at home and louse themselves; whereupon her Request being granted, the Irish enjoy the Company of their native Cattle to this Day, in Memory of which peculiar Favour this Street ever since bears the Name of Lousie-Hill. At last I rambled into Smock-Alley, where the Irish Theatre is situated; Curiosity led me soon into it, when Dryden’s Opera, call’d King Arthur, was to be acted, which is a Play I lik’d well enough, excepting these two Lines in Act I. Scene I.
For tho’ the Greek and Latin Poets, in their Compositions, made their Hexameter or Heroick Verse, compos’d of Dactyls and Spondees, yet always observing to have each Line to end with an Adonick likewise, it runs smoother than what our Language will with 15 or more Syllables, for we cannot exceed 10 Feet, or 12 at the most, without offending a delicate Ear.
Farther, let me observe, that the Irish Stage is now as much cumber’d as the English Stage, with Inventions not used in former Ages; I mean with Opera’s and Farce; the first stupifying the Audience in such a quivering Manner in their Songs, that the Words and Sense too are both lost in the Tune: And the other is a Representation of Things not natural, and is but one, or 3 Acts at most; contrary to the Rule of dramatick Poetry, which, Horace says in his Book de Arte Poetica, must have no more or less than 5 Acts. As for Comedy, it is as much, nay more corrupted in Ireland, than in England, France or Italy, in too much admitting the Mimick in the Drama: And let me tell you (tho’ a Pilgrim) that since I am enter’d upon this Discourse, I must take Notice, that tho’ Comedy is an Imitation of inferior People in Ridicule, yet ought not the Ridicule to be extravagant, but gracefully and slightly touch’d, as by Terence in his Pieces. Again, altho Comedy represents low Persons, yet are they not the meanest, since it brings eminent Citizens and Magistrates on the Stage; nay, Plautus in his Amphytrio introduces Gods and Kings, but nevertheless it is a true Comedy, because he hath turn’d the Subject of Tragedy into Ridicule; and it looks beautiful enough, if the Actors have a Regard to their Pronunciation and Gesture, according to Quintilian’s Rule, in the 11th Chapter of his First Book which is this: Debet etiam docere comœdus quomodo narrandum, &c. That is, a Comedian ought to teach how we should speak, with what Authority we should persuade, with what Emotion Anger should be rais’d, and with what Change of Voice we may excite Pity: I can’t blame those who spend some Time with the Masters of the palestrick Art; that is, those who form the Gestures and Motions, teach how to hold the Arms, and the Hands, that we seem not to be rustick, or ignorant, to have no unseemly Carriage, no unbecoming Posture of the Feet, and that the Head and Eyes don’t differ from the other Motions of the Body. But these Rules are no where strictly observ’d by Players: Moreover, as the Design of Comedy is to rectify the Manners of Men and Women, nothing ought to be represented which may vitiate the Audience, for the People being generally the same, they obstinately retain the most licentious and obscene Things; especially when they are impiously joyn’d to Religion. Indeed Ben Johnson is often guilty of this Fault in his Volpone, especially where he brings in Sir Politick Would be talking thus prophanely to Peregrine.
Also Ben Johnson in his Alchymist so much dishonours his Maker, as to suffer the most tremendous Name of God to be made so vile and cheap, as to be us’d often as an expletive Particle to prevent a Chasme, or make up a Gap in a Sentence, that it may run more smoothly; as appears by some of his Persons thus speaking.
As for Tragedies, those are the most perfect ones in which there are Peripeties, that is, Revolutions, Changes of Fortune, and Remembrances, as in the Oedipus of Sophocles, the first Tragedy of all Antiquity, where in the 3d Scene of the 4th Act, the Peripetie, or Change of one Fortune into another, is contrary to what was expected, in the Man that comes from Corinth to acquaint Oedipus of the Death of King Polybius. I shall not take Notice of the Duration of the Representation of a Play, which ought not to exceed the Space of a natural Day; but observe, that the Sect of the Peripateticks believing neither Providence nor fatal Necessity, but imputes all Accidents to Chance, the antient tragick Poets chose rather to follow the Opinion of the Stoicks, who acknowledge a Providence and fatal Necessity; as very well perceiving, that that was the only Means to preserve the Theatre, those wonderful Surprizes, which are produc’d by Accidents that seem fortuitous, and yet nevertheless have Causes assign’d to them, which are certain. Again, it is to be noted, that the Prologue should be plac’d before the Play; but Plautus hath took the Liberty of the Greeks, in placing the Prologue in the Play, as particularly in the first Act of his Miles gloriosus, and after the first Act in Cistellaria; however, as I hint above, this Custom ought not to be follow’d by any prudent and regular Poet; and therefore Terence hath took Care not to be guilty of so great a Fault. The Catastrophe of a Play must be happy or fatal; but Euripides has made his Pieces to have a miserable one, wherefore he appears to be the most tragical of all the Poets. Now the Use of Machines, which makes the Gods and Goddesses appear upon the Stage, is founded on the generally received Opinion of the Ethnichs, who suppose the Gods can see all things, and take Care of Men; for if there were none but Epicureans in the World, the Machines would be ridiculous, or not suffer’d, because they would directly thwart their Opinion, in affirming the Gods lead a quiet Life, free from all Sorts of Care, and if Nature sometimes doth those Things which seem miraculous, the Gods take no Notice of it, and don’t interrupt their Pleasure. By the Way also I must note, that the Imitation of Lightning and Thunder may be put into the Number of the Machines, and also that furious Storm, which makes the unravelling of the second Oedipus in Sophocles; for altho’ Jupiter doth not appear, yet ’tis he who sends that Tempest, during which Oedipus is buried: And from hence I infer, that Machines may be employ’d, not only out of, but also in the Action of Tragedy, provided there be an absolute Necessity for them.
But many of our modern Dramatists have not exactly observ’d the aforesaid Discourse, or kept themselves strictly to the Unity of Action, Time, and Place. For Shakespear in his Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice, makes the Duration of what he represents to be above 3 Weeks or a Month; I think the Representation of his Play begins in Italy, whence his black General went to Cyprus, an Island on the Coast of Syria, and to which he could not well arrive under a Fortnight, according as the Storm he met with held longer or shorter. The Absurdities and Blunders of this illiterate Poetaster being so many, that whatever he writ was not worth acting in Bartholomew Fair, I shall only take Notice of the little Knowledge he had in Astronomy, when in Act 1. Scen. 2. he says,
In these Lines I reckon he hath given a false Epithet to the Bear, which ought to have been lesser instead of burning, by talking of the Guards presently after, which are the two foremost Stars in Ursa minor, whereof that which is in the Shoulder of this Constellation, hath Longitude 128 Degrees, 23 Minutes, and North Latitude 72 Degrees, 40 Minutes, insomuch that being nearest of all the Northern Constellations to the North Pole, I wonder how there can be any extraordinary Heat within the frigid Zone. Also in the same Play he supposes the Soul to be the Production of some mortal Substance, according to these Words of Emilia, Act 5. Scen. 1.
But Shakespear being no Scholar, I suppose he had so little Skill in Rhetorick, that by a Synecdoche he did not put a Whole for a Part, as Virgil do’s Anima for Homo, in describing the Funeral of Polydorus, in Æneid. lib. 3. The Faults of this same Poetaster are not a few also in his Tragedy, call’d Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; in which he is mighty drolling, particularly where he tells an old Woman’s Story of the Cocks crowing always at Christmas, in Act 1. Scen. 1.
Truly Mr. Lee was in my Opinion, the most exact of all our modern Dramatists in his Plays; but yet he is not without his Irregularities and Foibles, especially in religious Matters, of which we shall only take notice of this in his Tragedy call Theodosius, or the Force of Love, where, in Act 3. Scen. 1. he represents the Emperor Theodosius a hopeful Convert, when at the sight of Athenais he makes one of the Articles of the Christian Faith a Simile for his Cod-piece Passion in these Words,
In Mr. Lee’s Tragedy call’d the Rival Queens, or the Death of Alexander the Great, in Act 1. Scen. I. he makes Polyperchon give a Description of Hell after the Christian Manner; for tho’ it was the Theology of the Grecians to believe a future State, yet it does not occur to my Memory that I ever read they allotted any Punishment to the Wicked by Fire, as he intimates in these Lines.
And in Act 4. Scen. I. he introduces Cassander speaking so prophanely, that it must rather vitiate the Audience than make them virtuous.
As for Mr. Shadwell, he hath mixt his Tragedy call’d the Libertine with so much Comedy, that the Play is rather tragi-comical than tragical; tho’ there is Blood enough spilt in it which might, with good Husbandry, serve very well for two or three Tragedies: But to make Don John the Libertine talk of a Soul in Act I. when an Atheist believes no such Thing existing in a Man, it is very absurd, as you may see in the following Lines, which plainly describe the Person’s Character.
Was I to criticise on all the Errors occurring in the Greek, Latin and English Dramatists, I should swell my Criticisms to a Bulk exceeding these swelling Expressions of Seneca, in the first Act of his Hercules Oetæus, whom he makes to speak in these bragging, bouncing, and ranting Strains.
By these Lines we plainly see how miserable Jupiter must be, who cannot be safe from wild Beasts without an Hercules; and then again how little and weak the Poet makes the Gods, in representing them to stand in Need of Human Help: But the tragick Poets do very often err in this Manner, by extolling Things above Nature. Moreover, altho’ some Morality may be learnt by the Judicious either from tragick or comick Writers, yet there are none of the dramatick Poets but what have too much Immorality and Prophaness in their Writings; and hence it follows that either Tragedy or Comedy, as being a Representation of Things, must be of a more pernicious Consequence than an Epick Poem, which is only a Recitation. A dramatick Poet must make the Person which he brings on the Stage to speak exactly to the Character which he or she represents: Thus whether the Person that represents another, is to act the Part of a Tyrant, Adulterer, Villain, Drunkard, or any other wicked profligate Wretch, as the Humour of such Persons must be represented always the same, without any Variety, the Representation of such notorious Crimes may be of an ill Consequence to green Heads; and especially in being Spectators of such Plays, which treat of those Subjects whose Stories are taken from, or belonging to Hell. Farthermore there is as much Buffoonry and Drollery acted on the Irish Stage as on the English Stage, as having Harlequins shewing Merry-Andrew’s Tricks; Scaramouches jumping into Barrels; Dame Ragonda skipping about with 9 Brats at her Heels; or a brainless Fellow, who has more Grimace than Sense, riding upon an Ass, which (I’m sure) is false Heraldry to put Metal upon Metal.
But being as soon tir’d of Dublin, as a Drury-Lane Strumpet is of Beetle and Punny in Bridewell, I left that lewd Town to visit the Country; accordingly I went to Manooth, a Town in the County of Kildare, where I saw nothing memorable, but an old Castle much ruinated by the famous Usurper Oliver Cromwell, of inglorious Memory. Hence I went to Kilcock, a Mile beyond which is a Stone-Mill, said to be built by the Devil; and truly by its strange Contrivance, I’m apt to believe it may be the Workmanship of some infernal Artist. Four Miles forward is Clenard, on the Skirts of which Town is a Bridge over the River Boyn; memorable for the entire Defeat King William gave his Royal Competitor for the Diadem of three Kingdoms. Hence I went to Mullingar; and from thence to Balimore, otherwise call’d Balimore-Lough-Sunderland, or Sivedelie, in the County of West-Meath; but how improper the Derivation is in one Respect, as well as incredulous in another, I leave to your judicious Sense to determine; for Bali signifies a Town in the Bogtrotters Jargon, and More, great; which Epithet is not at all suitable to this Place, when there are scarce 40 Houses in it. But then again to name it Sunderland, or Sivedelie, which signifies a Beetle to beat wet Linnen, the Accident I am going to recite, methinks could not impose upon the Faith of any but a Papist, who makes Traditions an essential Part of his Credo; for as I was inform’d by some dwelling here, there goes a Story of a Maid, living in former Ages, when a Grove grew where this Lough now is, on the North Side of the Town, with a small Brook running thro’ it; and one Day washing in this solitary Place, and accidentally dropping her Beetle into the Water, the Trees in the Grove instantly vanished, and the Ground became a large Lough: Thus by giving too much Credulity to a Lie, this Town begot a Name as long as a Spanish Nobleman’s. In the Church-Yard here I took Notice of a Grave-stone, on which was this insignificant Inscription: Pray for the Soul of Major John Duneel, who departed the 6th of November, 1694; as also for his Wife Elizabeth Jones; and his Sons Henry, William and Richard, who caused this Tomb to be made, Anno Domini 1696. And under it carv’d J. H. S. the Initial Letters of, Iesus Hominum Salvator. Not far from this is another Grave stone over a Miller, with all the chief Tools of his thieving Occupation carv’d thereon: And this Mode I saw was pretty customary among Tradesmen in many Church-Yards in this Kingdom.
Next I went to Athlone, a Town not only situated in the two Provinces of Leinster and Connought, but also in the two Counties of West-Meath and Roscommon. The Shannon, the largest River in Ireland, running from North to South, divides it into two Parts; over which is a Stone Bridge, containing seven Arches, built by old Queen Bess; and on it is cut out a Man and Dog with this Inscription. Robarts Damport Was Overseer of this Workys. Indeed, the Matter is not so material as to be worthy of communicating it to the Publick, but only to let my Readers see their antient way of Spelling, which is not much different from the modern Orthography now in use among ’em; and to delineate the Arrogancy of this petty Officer, who, because Alexander the Great respected his Horse Bucephalus, attempted to immortalize his Irish Cur too. Hence I went to Balidagon, a little Village six Miles from Athlone; but whence this Place takes its Name I cant imagine, unless a Remnant of the cursed Philistines made their Escape from the Slaughtering Israelites, by Swimming over the Sea; and settling in this bye Country, they dedicated these Receptacles of Poverty to their Monstrous God, Dagon. Proceeding onwards on my Pilgrimage, I went to Balinasloe; the People of which small Town are so Zealous, that rather than want a House of Devotion, they assemble in a little Cabbin, where a Bank is raised for the Bog-trotting Congregation to sit on; and such an awkward Pulpit, Desk, and Communion-Table is bestow’d on the poor Levite, that it would puzzle Ingenuity to fathom the Depth of humane Fancy for their true Description: However, taking some Pity and Compassion on these godly Wretches, before I left ’em I compil’d for them the following Stanza’s, call’d
The Irish LITANY.
Bidding adieu to Balinosloe, I went to Aghrim, where the Number of Houses exceed not a Pair-Royal of Aces; however, the Place will be ever memorable in History, for the decisive Battle fought here, which reduced a whole Kingdom to the Obedience of the Protestant King William. And all over the Plain here lie scatter’d Heaps of Mens Sculls to this Day; insomuch that it does not only represent Golgotha, but had also the Father of that Grecian Hero dwelt here, who wept for more Worlds to add to his Conquests, he might have sav’d his Page the Labour of shewing him at Meals the ghastful Emblem of Mortality. Hence I proceeded to Loghrea, where is kept the chiefest Market in all the Province of Connaught; and from thence going to Killilel, I saw a small wooden Cross set tottering upon a Heap of Stones in the Road; about which some Priest, and his bigotted Tribe, had been mumbling a Pater Noster, and Ave Maria to the Blessed Lady. At Balihavely I took Notice of an old Castle metamorphosed into a Cow-House; and next I went to Athenrea, an ancient, but much ruinated Town, built by old King John of merry Memory. Then I came to Galway, a large Seaport Town, situated on the River Caarle; when I first enter’d this Place, I really took it to be a general Goal for the whole Kingdom; for the Houses (which are some one, some two, and some three Stories high) are all strongly built of Stone, and most of the Windows thick barricadoed with thick Iron Bars, insomuch that there are not the like Buildings to be seen through the Country for Strength. In the Midst of this Town stands a Church, dedicated to honest St. Nicholas, whose Steeple hath a pretty good Set of Bells, and its Chimes are somewhat Musical, but not well approv’d by the Fanaticks, because they are set to the Tune of a Psalm. Moreover, in this Church are two Pulpits, one for the Doctor to preach in, and one for the Archbishop of Tuam, in case his Preferment makes him not above it.
The Women of this Country are generally so homely, that had the Mother of all Living been as ugly, when she took her ill-condition’d Being from one of Father Adam’s Ribs, her frightful Phisiognomy had forc’d the Godhead to act the sixth Day over again. Seeing the female Sex so ordinary, to comfort them under this Misfortune, I composed the following Lines, call’d the Picture of an Irish Woman.
But yet for all this Dearth of handsome Women, this Country in another Respect is far happier than England, as being less infected with Lawyers, that common Bane of all Mankind. The wild Irish, in all Courts of Judicature, are sworn upon a Scull; herein being more scrupulous of forswearing themselves, than by taking a false Oath on the New-Testament; as supposing the Ghost to whom that Scull once pertain’d would haunt them, in case they prov’d perjur’d. Assizes are held twice a Year for criminal Matters, and Cases of Nisi prius; and tho’ Astræa left no Print of her Footsteps in this Nation when she fled to Heaven, yet so partial is blindfold Justice here betwixt Man and Beast, that the Stone Pounds for offending Cattle seem stronger built than Goals for Malefactors. Murderers are hang’d and quarter’d; and Rapparees share the same Fate: Which last in former Times was the Militia of the Country, but the mean Souls of the Irish detesting now what is honourable and Praiseworthy, to follow Theft, this martial Denomination suffers the same hard Fate with those honest Names of Tyrant and Sophister, which from Titles of Honour are degenerated into Terms of the greatest Disgrace and Infamy; for a Rapparee now signifies no more than a Robber on the Highway. As for the great Commerce the People drives, that was plainly perceiv’d by meeting neither Waggon nor Pack-Horse 100 Miles an End. The wild Native Irish observe more Days of Fasting and Abstinence than the Rubrick of their Church enjoyns them; because extream Poverty excludes them from the Use of Flesh and Fowl from one Year’s End to another. Their Lodging is in small Cabbins, without Chimneys, put up in the Highways; and in these the Man, his Wife and Children, Cocks, Hens, Chickens, Hogs, Pigs, Cows, Calves and Geese lie all together. If Teague is so topping as to rent a small Potatoe-Garden for 5 Shillings per Annum, he thinks himself as well to pass as that Italian Duke, who’s married Yearly to the Adriatic Sea; however, his Tenement shall be no better furnish’d than the rest of his Neighbours; which is commonly set off with a Truss of Straw to lie on, a Grid-Iron, and Pot to boil Potatoes. These wild People wear neither Shoes nor Stockings, which makes me strongly to suspect that they are born without any, as Monsieur Ragou’s Bastard was without a Shirt; and as often as I behold their tatter’d Apparel, which scarce covers what Modesty ought to conceal, I imagine them to proceed from the Loyns of Ham, who discovering his Father’s Nakedness, the Curse of him and his Posterity lay in never being well cloath’d again.
Here are no Stage-Coaches; and instead of Carts they use only little Cars, with small Wheels without Spokes, so that they cannot carry above 3 or 400 Weight of Tallow, which is one of the chiefest Commodities of this Country. Sliding Carts are also very common, imitating much our Halliers in Bristol. Instead of Soap they use Cackmacrel, that is, the Excrements of Dogs whether thick or thin, which poor Women gather up in the Streets with as great Pains as they do Rags in London. In England Women ride upon the left Side of a Horse, but here they ride upon the wrong Side; and very often astride. Most Things edible or potable are very cheap; but why is that? Because Money is scarce, which makes an English Shillings go for 13 Pence, and a Guinea 1 Pound 3 Shillings, which is considerable above their intrinsick Value. The Inhabitants of this Kingdom greatly admire a Dish of Potatoes, to which they have such an Appetite, that I believe they long for ’em after they are dead; for in most Potatoe-Gardens many Souls, grinning strangely at this delicious Food, which is both Bread and Meat to an Irishman; but whether they get thither by Accident, or some sympathetical Vertue, whose strange Effect proceeding from as strange a Cause, the Relicks of their mortal Carcasses will insensibly creep (like the Sun’s Shadow on a Dial) to what they most affected in this Lite, is a Subject on which I shall not insist. For above 40 Miles together I could not see a Stack of Hay; and Beasts are very small here, excepting the Woman, who being great Breeders, stand hard and fast by that primary Command, Increase and multiply; but I suppose their Obedience to this Precept is more by natural Instinct, than acquir’d by any Knowledge of the Scriptures, to which they are as meer Strangers as the remotest Heathens. So boggy is most part of the Country, that if it is not Lucifer’s Backside, one may very reasonably impute it to be the grand Magazine of Nature’s Impurity. Popery is very predominant; for altho’ severe Acts are made against Jesuits, Monks, and Fryers, yet secular Priests, who own no Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction of the See of Rome, are tolerated to say Mass. Besides, several private Nunneries, the Papists have public Chapels here; one about a Furlong or two without the West-Gate of Galway, dedicated to the Virgin Mary; and another a little without Abby-Gate, dedicated to St. Francis. Superstition has a great Ascendant over their Faith; for about half a Mile without William’s Gate are two Wells, dedicated to the blessed Lady and St. Tavison, round which every Sunday Morning they walk bare-foot an Hour together, mumbling over their Beads, and then crossing themselves with the Water, which they hold to be good against several Infirmities, they return home as little sanctified as they went. The Pulpit-Prayers us’d by the Protestant Clergy in Ireland, are scarce as long as the Lord’s Prayer and Doxology; for they are all as idle as our English Parsons, who don’t preach, but read Sermons, excepting here and there one that scorns to teach his Congregation out of a Book.
From Galway I went to Carmorris, on the left Hand whereof are several Houses paying Tribute to the Ruins of Fire and Sword. Next I went to Balihove, in the County of Mayo; and truly of all the Irish Counties commend me to this for good Fellowship; for here they will kill one another to raise a Rundlet of Aqua-vitæ. As passing through this Country, I overtook a little Car loaded with this Liquor, which they prefer above their beloved Usquebaugh, drawing before a Corpse; and as soon as the senseless Clod was interr’d in an obscure Place among Bogs and Hills, they fell heartily to their strong Sippings, which they drew out into square wooden Cups, and thence took it out agen with Egg-shels, which serv’d instead of Tasters. For my part being a Stranger, they invited me to participate of their Liquor; accordingly I tarried with them, to see their Manners; ’till the Spirits flew so much into their Heads, that one Brother in a Quarrel kill’d another. Hereupon some were for carrying him to Justice, and others again for hiding the bloody Fact; thus whilst a long Controversie held concerning what to do in this tragical Matter, an old Man among ’em starts up, and addresses himself as follows.