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So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a swearing, Then my dame Wadgar? 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's3 folks are all very sad ; For my lord Dromedaya comes a Tuesday without fail."
Pugh !” said I, “but that's not the business that I ail.” Says Cary,6 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." “Yes,” says the steward,8 “ I remember when I was at my lord Shrews
bury's, Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time of gooseberries.” So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief: (Now you must know of all things in the world I hate a thief:) However, I was resolved to bring the discourse slily about:
Mrs. Dukes," said I, “ here's an ugly accident has happened out: 'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a louse ;? But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house. '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. Now Mrs. Dukes you know, and everybody understands, 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;
· The earl of Berkeley's valet. 2 The old deaf housekeeper. Galway.
* 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.
A usual saying of hers.
Then my lord callid me: “IIarry,”1 said my lord, “ don't cry;
A BALLAD ON THE GAME OF TRAFFIC.
Written at the castle of Dublin, 1699.
My lord,2 to find out who must deal,
Delivers cards about,
To find the doctor out.
And seem'd to knit his brow:
But h’ thinks upon Jack How.3
Some bungling partner takes,
Takes snuff and holds the stakes.
For pair royals and sequents;
The castle seldom frequents.
I'd won it on my word,
And could pick up a third.
On Sundays to be fine in,
'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.
A friar would need show his talent in Latin;
Then all in the place
IIe left a void space,
For he wisely consider'd it must be a sprite;
Yet he did not know
If it were friend or foe,
In making a ballad, but was at a stand;
Then, good doctor Swift,
Pay thanks for the gift,
Cmo. Let censuring, &c.
of so untractable a dependent, by gratifying him with a living.
Statesmen and mob expected wonders,
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 count orfeit hand, as if a third person had done it.-Swirt.
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, Ile twitch'd his sleeve, and stole a word;
Then to a corner both withdrew. Imagine now my lord and Bush
Whispering in junto most profound, Like good king Phyz and good king Ush,
While all the rest stood gaping round. At length a spark, not too well bred,
Of forward face and ear acute,
To overhear the grand dispute:
Or from Whitehall some new express,
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 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.
THE PROBLEM. “ That my lord Berkeley stinks when he is in love." DID ever problem thus perplex, Or more employ the female sex ? So sweet a passion, who would think,
Jove ever form’d to make a stink!
The ladies vow and swear they'll try
And now, the ladies all are bent
The ladies vanish in the smother,