THUS we both should gain our prize; I to laugh, and you grow wife. The DrsCOVERY * WHEN wife Lord Berkeley firft came here, Statefmen and mob expected wonders; Nor thought to find so great a peer Ere a week paft committing blunders. Till on a day cut out by fate, When folks came thick to make their court, Out flipt a mystery of state, To give the town and country fport. Now enters Bush † with new state-airs, His Lordship's premier minifter; And who in all profound affairs Is held as needful as his clyfter ‡. 5 10 When the Earl of Berkeley went over to Ireland as one of the Lords Justices, the author, in compliance with his invitation, went over with him as chaplain and private fecretary. But Bush, another of the Earl's attendants, having infinuated, that the place of fecretary was not proper for a clergyman, found means, foon after they arrived at Dublin, to obtain it for himself.-Swift, fired with indignation at this injurious treatment, writ this fatirical copy of verses. Swift. My Lord's wife fecretary. Always taken before my Lord went to council. With head reclining on his shoulder, Afks of his neighbour, Who is that ? The courtiers kept their diftance due, He twitch'd his fleeve, and stole a word;" Then to a corner both withdrew. Imagine now my Lord and Bush Whifp'ring in junto moft profound, Like good King Phyz, and good King Ush †, At length a fpark, not too well bred, Advanc'd on tiptoe, lean'd his head, t For fure (thought he) it can't be less. Difguis'd in two old threadbare coats, Ere morning's dawn ftole out to fpy How markets went for hay and oats: The one was oats, the other hay; 15 20 301 35 40 My Lord feems pleas'd, but ftill directs By all means to bring down the rates; Then, with a congee circumflex, Bufh, fmiling round on all, retreats. Our listner stood a while confus'd, 45 Enrag'd to fee the world abus'd By two fuch whisp'ring kings of Brentford. M 2 + Vide the Rehearsal. The The PROBLEM. That my Lord B-ley ftinks when he's in love. DID ever problem thus perplex, Or more employ the female fex? LOVE's fire, it seems, like inward heat, None but the fav'rite nymph can smell it. Whether all paffions, when in ferment, -gut, Now to a nobler office put, Thus, when you feel an hard-bound breech, 5 10 15 20. 25 30 Till the kind loofenefs comes, and then AND now the ladies all are bent To try the great experiment, F Juft at the breech it flashes first : THE ladies vanish in the fmother, 35 40 45 50 Whom each one thought the happy dame. You smell the ftink! by G-, you lie, 55 Ladies, quoth Levens, pray forbear, And, by the most I can discover, 60 M 3 A A LOVE-POEM from a PHYSICIAN to his MISTRESS. Written at London in the year 1738. * Y poets we are well affur'd BY That love, alas! can ne'er be cur'd ; A complicated heap of ills, Remember how I fuck'd it all; What colic pangs from thence I felt, Had you but known, your heart would melt, Till nature pointed out a vent. How have you torn my heart to pieces, With maggots, humours, and caprices! I feel my body all inflam'd, Which breaking out in boils and blanes, 10 15 20 25 Small beer I guzzle till I burst : Or, parch'd with unextinguish'd thirst, 30 • Dean Swift was not in London after the year 1727. |