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So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a swearing,
Then my dame Wadgar2 came, and she, you know, is thick of hearing. Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you know what a loss I have had ?"
"Nay," says she, "my lord Colway's folks are all very sad;
For my lord Dromeday comes a Tuesday without fail."
"Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that I ail."
Says Cary," says he, "I have been a servant this five-and-twenty years come spring,
And in all the places I lived I never heard of such a thing."
Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time of gooseberries."
'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence makes a great hole
in my wages:
Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages.
That, though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands." "The devil take me!" said she (blessing herself), if ever I saw't!" So she roar'd like a bedlam, as though I had call'd her all to naught. So you know, what could I say to her any more?
I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before. Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man: "No," said I, "'tis the same thing, the CHAPLAINS will be here anon." So the chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart, Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part. So as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd, "Parson," said I, can you cast a nativity when a body's plunder'd?" (Now you must know he hates to be called parson, like the devil!)
Truly," says he, "Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil; If your money be gone, as a learned divine says, d'ye see, You are no text for my handling; so take that from me: I was never taken for a conjurer before, I'd have you to know." "Lord!" said I, "don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so; You know I honor the cloth; I design to be a parson's wife; I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all my life." With that he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say, "Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away. Well: I thought I should have swoon'd. Lord!" said I, "what shall
I have lost my money and shall lose my true love too!"
'The earl of Berkeley's valet. 2 The old deaf housekeeper.
The earl of Drogheda, who, with the primate, was to succeed the two earls then lord justices of Ireland.
Clerk of the kitchen.
€ Ferris; termed in his journal a scoundrel dog. 8 Swift.
A usual saying of hers.
Then my lord call'd me: "IIarry," said my lord, "don't cry;
"Oh! but," said I, "what if, after all, the chaplain won't come to?"
A BALLAD ON THE GAME OF TRAFFIC.
Written at the castle of Dublin, 1699.
My lord,2 to find out who must deal,
But the first knave does seldom fail
To find the doctor out.
But then his honor cried, Gadzooks!
But h' thinks upon Jack How.3
Takes snuff and holds the stakes.
And could pick up a third.
'Twill just new dye the lining.
Not knowing how to spend his time,
To deafen them with puns and rhyme."
'A cant word of lord and lady Berkeley to Mrs. Harris.
To the tune of the Cutpurse.' Written in August, 1702.
ONCE on a time, as old stories rehearse,
A friar would need show his talent in Latin;
And so went to bed in a desperate case:
CHо. Let censuring critics then think what they list on't;
This put me the friar into an amazement;
For he wisely consider'd it must be a sprite; That he came through the keyhole, or in at the casement; And it needs must be one that could both read and write; Yet he did not know
If it were friend or foe,
Or whether it came from above or below;
Howe'er, it was civil, in angel or elf,
For he ne'er could have filled it so well of himself.
Even so master Doctor had puzzled his brains
Pay thanks for the gift,
For you freely must own you were at a dead lift;
The following lines probably had some share in determining the earl to get rid of so untractable a dependent, by gratifying him with a living.
WHEN wise lord Berkeley first came here,
Statesmen and mob expected wonders,
Nor thought to find so great a peer
Ere a week past committing blunders.
Lady Betty Berkeley, finding the preceding verses in the author's room unfinished, wrote under them the concluding stanza, which gave occasion to this ballad, written by the author in a counterfeit hand, as if a third person had done it.-SWIFT.
Till on a day cut out by fate,
When folks came thick to make their court, Out slipp'd a mystery of state,
To give the town and country sport. Now enters Bush with new state airs,
His lordship's premier minister; And who in all profound affairs
Is held as needful as his clyster.' With head reclining on his shoulder
He deals and hears mysterious chat, While every ignorant beholder
Asks of his neighbor, who is that? With this he put up to my lord,
The courtiers kept their distance due,
Whispering in junto most profound,
Or from Whitehall some new express, Papists disarm'd or fall of coin;
For sure (thought he) it can't be less. My lord, said Bush, a friend and I,
Disguised in two old threadbare coats, Ere morning's dawn, stole out to spy
How markets went for hay and oats. With that he draws two handfuls out,
The one was oats, the other hay Puts this to's excellency's snout,
And begs he would the other weigh. My lord seems pleased, but still directs
By all means to bring down the rates; Then, with a congee circumflex,
Bush, smiling round on all, retreats. Our listener stood awhile confused,
But gathering spirits, wisely ran for't, Enraged to see the world abused,
By two such whispering kings of Brentford.
"That my lord Berkeley stinks when he is in love."
The ladies vow and swear they'll try
And now, the ladies all are bent
The ladies vanish in the smother, To confer notes with one another; And now they all agreed to name Whom each one thought the happy dame. Quoth Neal, whate'er the rest may think, I'm sure 'twas I that smelt the stink. You smell the stink! by ―, you lie,