hrue I'm a good King," says he, "and I
'commodate the people by havin' sates for them to sit down and enjoy the
raycreation and contimplation of seein' me here lookin' out o' my
dhrawin'-room windy for divarshin; but that is no rayson they are to
make a hotel o' the place and come and sleep here. Who is it at all?"
says the King.

"Not a one o' me knows, plaze your majesty."

"I think he must be a furriner," says the King, "bekase his dhress is
outlandish."

"And doesn't know manners, more betoken," says the lord.

"I'll go down and circumspect him myself," says the King. "Folly me,"
says he to the lord, wavin' his hand at the same time in the most
dignacious manner.

Down he wint accordingly, followed by the lord; and whin he wint over to
where the waiver was lying, sure, the first thing he seen was his shield
with the big letthers an it, and with that, says he to the lord, "By
dad," says he, "this is the very man I want."

"For what, plaze your majesty?" says the lord.

"To kill that vagabone dhraggin, to be sure," says the King.

"Sure, do you think he could kill him," says the lord, "whin all the
stoutest knights in the land wasn't aiquil to it, but never kem back,
and was ate up alive by the cruel desaiver."

"Sure, don't you see there," says the King, pointin' at the shield,
"that he killed three score and tin at one blow; and the man that done
that, I think, is a match for anything."

So, with that, he wint over to the waiver and shuck him by the shouldher
for to wake him, and the waiver rubbed his eyes as if just wakened, and
the King says to him, "God save you!" said he.

"God save you kindly!" says the waiver, purtendin' he was quite onknowst
who he was spakin' to.

"Do you know who I am," says the King, "that you make so free, good
man?"

"No, indeed," says the waiver; "you have the advantage o' me."

"To be sure I have," says the King, moighty high; "sure, ain't I the
King o' Dublin?" says he.

The waiver dhropped down on his two knees forninst the King, and says
he, "I beg God's pardon and yours for the liberty I tuk; plaze your
holiness, I hope you'll excuse it."

"No offince," says the King; "get up, good man. And what brings you
here?" says he.

"I'm in want o' work, plaze your riverence," says the waiver.

"Well, suppose I give you work?" says the King.

"I'll be proud to sarve you, my lord," says the waiver.

"Very well," says the King. "You killed three score and tin at one b