Dr. A. Well. I'm glad to know that, at any rate.
Dennis. Yis, I'll not brathe a word. It's from the owld counthry I am.
Dr. A. That's very evident.
Dennis. An' it's mysilf that would give the worrld to sit my two eyes on her. Now, docther, it's a lone widdyer I am, an' would ye's go for to do me a kindness?
Dr. A. To be sure I would.
Dennis. Hiven bliss ye! Thin fich her out. Let me faist my eyes on her beautiful face, her illigant, dignified figure. Let me kiss the him of her magnificent dress, and hear her swate voice spake the brogue of the gim of the say.
Dr. A. What are you talking about? Who do you want to see?
Dennis. You know will what I mane—her grace, the noble, moighty, illigant "Duchess of Dublin."
Dr. A. What? "The Duchess of Dublin?" Out of my house at once, or I shall do you an injury.