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$ 21. Written in a Lady's Ivory Table-book. | But when I fearch'd, and mifs'd my purse, Lord!



PERUSE my leaves through every part,
And think thou feeft my owner's heart,
Scrawl'd o'er with trifles thus, and quite
As hard, as fenfelefs, and as light;
Expos'd to every coxcomb's eyes,
But hid with caution from the wife.
Here you may read, " Dear charming faint!"
Beneath, "A new receipt for paint :'
Here, in beau-fpelling, "Tru tel deth ;"
There, in her own, "For an el breth :"
Here," Lovely nymph, pronounce my doom!"
There, "A fafe way to ufe perfume:"
Here, a page fill'd with billet-doux :
On t'other fide," Laid out for shoes."
"Madam, I die without your grace:"
"Item, for half a yard of lace.".
Who that had wit would place it here,
For every peeping fop to jeer?
In pow'r of fpittle and a clout,
Whene'er he pleafe, to blot it out;
And then, to heighten the difgrace,
Clap his own nonfenfe in the place.
Whoe'er expects to hold his part
In fuch a book, and fuch a heart,
If he be wealthy, and a fool,
Is in all points the fittest tool;
Of whom it may be justly faid,
He's a gold pencil tipp'd with lead.

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§ 22.
their Excellencies the Lords Juftices of
Ireland, the humble petition of Frances

Mrs. Harris's Petition. 1699.

Who muft ftarve, and die a maid, if it mifcarries;

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a very bad lock,

Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small stock,

I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next to my fmock.

So when I went to put up my purfe, as God
would have it, my fmock was unripp'd,
And, instead of putting it into my pocket, down
it flipt;
[to bed;
Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my Lady
And, God knows, I thought my money was as
fafe as my maidenhead. [very light:
So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel

The Earls of Berkeley and of Galway.
Wife to one of the footmen.
I Galway.

++ Clerk of the kitchen.

I thought I should have funk outright. Lord! Madam, fays Mary, how d' ye do? Indeed, fays I, never worse:

But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with my purfe?

Lord help me! faid Mary, I never stirr'd out of this place: [that's a plain cafe. Nay, faid I, I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm; However, the ftole away my garters, that I might [well think, So I tumbled and tofs'd all night, as you may very But hardly ever fet myeyes together, or flept a wink. So I was a-dream'd, methought, that we went and fearch'd the folks round,

do myself no harm.

And in a corner of Mrs. Duke's ‡ box, tied in a rag, the money was found. [a-fwearing:

So next morning we told Whittle §, and he fell Then my dame Wadgar || came; and the, you know, is thick of hearing.

Dame, faid I, as loud as I could bawl, do you know what a lofs I have had?

Nay, faid the, my Lord Colway's ¶ folks are all very fad;

[without fail. comes o' Tuefday

For my Lord Dromedary
Pugh! faid I, but that's not the business that I ail.
Says Cary ++, fays he, I have been a fervant this
five-and-twenty years come ipiing,

And in all the places I liv'd I never heard of fuch a thing.

Yes, fays the fteward ++, I remember, when I Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time was at my Lady Shrewsbury's, of gooleberries.

So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief, [I hate a thief). (Now you must know, of all things in the world, However, I was refolv'd to bring the difcourfe flily about : [happen'd out: Mrs. Dukes, faid I, here's an ugly accident has 'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a loufe §§;

But the thing I ftand upon is the credit of the house. 'Tis true, feven pounds, four fhillings, and fixpence, makes a great hole in my wages: Befides, as they fay, fervice is no inheritance in thefe ages. [underftands, Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and every body That tho' 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go [ever I faw 't!

without hands.

The Devil take me! faid fhe (bleffing herself) if So the roar'd like a bedlam, as tho' I had call'd her all to naught.

So you know, what could I fay to her any more?
Ie'en left her, and came away as wife as I was before.
Well; but then they would have had me gone
to the cunning man!
No, faid I, 'tis the fame thing, the chaplain will
be here anon.

Lady Betty Berkeley, afterwards Germaine.
The old deaf housekeeper.

Earl of Berkeley's Valet.

** The Earl of Drogheda, who with the Primate was to fucceed the two Earls.

++ Ferris.

§§ An ufual faying of hers.

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So the chaplain came in: now the fervants
fay he is my fweetheart,

Because he's always in my chamber, and I al-
ways take his

So, as the Devil would have it, before I was
aware, out I blunder'd,
Parfo, faid I, can you caft a nativity, when a
body's plunder'd? [fon like the Devil!)
(Now you must know he hates to be call'd par-
Truly, fays he, Mis. Nab, it might become you
to be more civil;
[d' ye fee,
If your money be gone, as a learned divine fays,
You are no text for my handling; fo take that
[you to know.
I was never taken for a conjurer before, I'd have
Lord! faid 1, don't be angry, I'm fure I never
thought you fo;

from me:

You know I honour the cloth; I

parfon's wife;

defign to be a [all my life. I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in With that he twifted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should fay, [went away. Now you may go hang yourfelf for me! and fo Well, I thought I fhould have fwoon'd: Lord! faid I, what fhall I do? [love too! I have loft my money, and fhall lofe my trueThen my lord call'd me: Harry †, faid my Lord,

don't cry;

won't come to?

I'll give fomething towards thy lofs; and, fays
my Lady, fo will I.
O! but, faid I, what if, after all, the chaplain
[I muft petition you.
For that, he faid (an't pleafe your Excellencies),
The premiffes tenderly confider'd, I defire your
Excellencies protection,

The watchful bailiffs take their filent stands,
And school-boys lag with fatchels in their hand.

§ 24. A Defcription of a City Shower. In Ini-
tation of Virgil's Georgics. 1710.
CAREFUL obfervers may foretel the hour,
By fure prognoftics, when to dread a fhow't.
While rain depends, the penfive cat gives o'er
Her frolics, and purfues her tail no more.
Returning home at night, you'll find the fink
Strike your offended fenfe with double ftink.
If you be wife, then go not far to dine;
You'll spend in coach-hire more than fave in wise.
A coming fhow'r your fhooting corns prefage,
Old achs will throb, your hollow tooth will rage:
Sauntering in coffee-houfe is Dulman feen;
He damns the climate, and complains of fp cca.
Meanwhile the fouth, rifing with dabbled wing,
A fable cloud athwart the welkin flings,
That fwill'd more liquor than it could contain,
And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.
Brifk Sufan whips her linen from the rope,
While the first drizzling fhower is borne ailope:
Such is that sprinkling which fome carciefs quean
Flirts on you from her mop, but not fo clean:
You fly, invoke the gods; then, turning, ftop
To rail; the, finging, ftill whirls on her mop.
Not yet
the duft had fhunn'd th' unequal ftrife,
But, aided by the wind, fought still for life;
And, wafted with its foe by violent guft,
'Twas doubtfulwhichwas rain,and which was du
Ah! where muft needy poet feek for aid,
When duft and rain at once his coat invade ?
Sole coat! where duft cemented by the rain
Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy ftain!
Now in contiguous drops the flood comes

And that I may have a fhare in next Sunday's
[cellencies letter,
And, over and above, that I may have your Ex-Threatening with deluge this devoted town.
With an order for the chaplain aforefaid, or, in To fhops in crowds the daggled females fly,
ftead of him, a better:
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
And then your poor petitioner, both night and day,The templar fpruce, while every fpout's abroach,
Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty
bound, thall ever pray.

A Defcription of the Morning. 1709.
NOW hardly here and there a hackney-coach
Appearing, fhew'd the ruddy morn's approach.
Now Betty from her master's bed had flown,
And foftly ftole to difcompofe her own;
The flipfhod 'prentice from his mafter's door
Had par'd the dirt, and fprinkled round the floor.
Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dextrous airs,
Prepar'd to ferub the entry and the stairs.
The youth with broomy ftumps began to trace,
The kennel sedge, where wheels hadworntheplace.
The finalicoal-man was heard with cadence deep,
Till drown'd in thriller notes of chimney-fweep:
Duns at his Lordship's gate began to meet:
And brick-duft Moll had fercam'd through half
the firect:

The turnkey now his flock returning fees,
Dily let out a-nights to steal for fees.

* Dr. Swift.

Stays till 'tis fair, yet feems to call a coach.
The tuck 'd-up fempftrefs walks with hafty ftrides,
While ftreams run down her oil'd umbrella's fides.
Here various kinds, by various fortunes led,
Commence acquaintance underneath a fhed.
Triumphant Tories and defponding Whigs
Forget their feuds, and join to fave their wigs.
Box'd in a chair, the beau impatient fits,
While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits,
And ever and anon with frightful din
The leather founds; he trembles from within.
So when Troy chairmen bere the wooden fleed,
Pregnant with Greeks, impatient to be freed
(Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do,
Inftead of paying chairmen, ran them through),
Laocoon ftruck the outfide with his fpear,
And cach imprifon'd hero quak'd for fear.

Now from all parts the fwelling kennels flow,
And bear their trophies with them as they go:
Filths of all Irucs and odours feem to tel
What street they fail'd from by their fight and fine

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They, as each torrent drives, with rapid force
From Smithfield or St. 'Pulchre's fhape their courfe;
And, in huge confluence join'd at Snow-hill ridge,
Fall from the conduit prone to Holborn bridge.
Sweepings from butchers' ftails, dung, guts,
and blood,

Drown'd puppies, stinking sprats, all drench'd
in mud,

Dead cats, and turnip-tops, come tumbling down the flood.

§ 25.
On the little Houfe by the Church-yard of
Caftlenock. 1910.
WHOEVER pleafeth to enquire

Why yonder steeple wants a spire,
The grey old fellow poet Joe*
The philofophic caufe will thew.
Once on a time a western blast
At least twelve inches overcaft,
Reckoning roof, weather cock, and all,
Which came with a prodigious fall;
And, tumbling topfy-turvy round,
Light with its bottom on the ground.
For, by the laws of gravitation,
It fell into its proper ftation.

This is the little strutting pile
You fec juft by the church-yard ftile;
The walls in tumbling gave a knock,
And thus the fteeple got a fhock;
From whence the neighbouring farmer calls
The feeple, Knock; the vicar, + Walls.
The vicar once a week creeps in,
Sits with his knee up to his chin;
Here conns his notes and takes a whet,
Till the fmall ragged flock is met.

A traveller, who by did pafs,
Obferv'd the roof behind the grass;
On tip-toc ftood, and rear'd his fnout,
And faw the parfon creeping out;
Was much furpris'd to fee a crow
Venture to build his neft fo low.
A fchool-boy ran unto 't, and thought
The crib was down, the blackbird caught.
A third, who lost his way by night,
Was forc'd for fafety to alight;
And, ftepping o'er the fabric roof,
His horfe had like to fpoil his hoof.
Warburton took it in his noddle,
This building was defign'd a model
Or of a pidgeon-house or oven,
To bake one loaf, and keep one dove in.
Then Mrs. Johnfon § gave her verdict,
And every one was pleas'd that heard it:
All that you make this ftir about,
Is but a ftill which wants a fpout..

The reverend Dr. Raymond guefs'd
More probably than all the reft;
He faid, but that it wanted room,
It might have been a pigmy's tomb.
The doctor's family came by,
And little mifs began to cry ;

* Mr. Beaumont of Trim,
Dr. Swift's curate at Laracor


Give me that house in my own hand
Then madam bade the chariot stand;
Call'd to the clerk, in manner mild,
Pray, reach that thing here to the child:
That thing, I mean, among the kale;
And here's to buy a pot of ale.

The clerk faid to her, in a heat,
What! fell my master's country-feat,
Where he comes every week from town!
He would not fell it for a crown.
Poh! fellow, keep not fuch a pother;
In half an hour thou'lt make another.
Says Nancy, I can make for miss
A finer houfe ten times than this;
The dean will give me willow-fticks,
And Joe my apron full of bricks.

26. The Fable of Midas. 1711. MIDAS, we are in story told,

Turn'd every thing he touch'd to gold:
He chipp'd his bread; the pieces round
Glitter'd like fpangles on the ground:
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would straight become a golden-pippin:
He call'd for drink; you faw him fup
Potable gold in golden cup:

His empty paunch that he might fill,
He fuck'd his victuals through a quill;
Untouch'd it pais'd between his grinders,
Or 't had been happy for gold-finders:
He cock'd his hat, you would have said
Mambrino's helm adorn'd his head:
Whene'er he chanc'd his hands to lay
On magazines of corn or hay,
Gold ready coin'd appear'd, inftead
Of paltry provender and bread;
Hence by wife farmers we are told,
Old hay is equal to old gold;
And hence a critic deep maintains,
We learn'd to weigh our gold by grains.
This fool had got a lucky hit,
And people fancied he had wit:
Two gods their skill in mufic tried,
And both chofe Midas to decide;
He against Phoebus' harp decreed,
And gave it for Pan's oaten recd:
The god of wit, to fhew his grudge,.
Clapt affes ears upon the judge;
A goodly pair, erect and wide,
Which e could neither gild nor hide..
And now the virtue of his hands
Was loft among Pactolus' fands,
Against whofe torrent while he swims,
The golden fcurf peels off his limbs:
Fame fpreads the news, and people travel
From far to gather golden gravel;
Midas, expos'd to all their jeers,
Had loft his art, and kept his ears.

This tale inclines the gentle reader
To think upon a certain leader;
To whom from, Midas down defcends.
That virtue in the fingers' ends.

The waiting-woman,

+ Archdeacon Wall, a correfpondent of Swift's.
Minifter of Trim.


What elfe by perquifites are meant,
By penfions, bribes, and three per cent.
By places and commiffions fold,
And turning dung itfelf to gold?
By ftarving in the midst of store,
As t'other Midas did before?

None e'er did modern Midas choose
Subject or patron of his mufe,
But found him thus their merit fcan,
That Phoebus must give place to Pan:
He values not the Poet's praife,
Nor will exchange his plums for bays:
To Pan alone rich mifers call;
And there's the jeft, for Pan is all.
Here English wits will be to feek;
Howe'er, 'tis all one in the Greek.

Befides, it plainly now appears
Our Midas too hath affes cars;
Where every fool his mouth applies,
And whifpers in a thousand lyes;
Such grofs delufions could not pafs
Through any ears but of an afs.

But gold defiles with frequent touch; There's nothing fouls the hands fo much: And fcholars give it for the cause Of British Midas' dirty paws: Which while the fenate ftrove to fcour, They wafh'd away the chemic pow'r. While he his utmost strength applied To fwim against this pop'lar tide, The golden fpoils Hew off apace; Here tell a penfion, there a place: The torrent mercilefs imbibes Commitlions, perquifites, and bribes,

By their own weight funk to the bottom;
Much good may do them that have caught 'em!
And Midas now neglected ftands,
With alles ears, and dirty hands.

$27. Horace, Book I. Ep. VII. Addressed to the Earl of Oxford.


HARLEY, the nation's great fupport,
Returning home one day from court,
(His mind with public cares poffeft
All Europe's bufinefs in his breaft),
Obferv'd a parfon near Whitehall
Cheapening old authors on a ftall.
The priest was pretty well in cafe,
And thew'd fome humour in his face;
Look'd with an eafy careless mien,
A perfect ftranger to the spleen;
Offize that might a pulpit fill,
But more inclining to fit ftill.
My Lord (who, if a man may fay't,
Loves mifchief better than his meat)
Was now difpos'd to crack a jeft;
And bid friend Lewis go in quest
(This Lewis is a cunning fhaver,
And very much in Harley's favour)
In queft who might this parfon be,
What was his name, of what degree;
If poffible, to learn his ftory,

And whether he were Whig or Tory.

Lewis his patron's humour knows,
Away upon his errand goes,
And quickly did the matter fift;
Found out that it was Doctor Swift;
A clergyman of special note

For fhunning thofe of his own coat;
Which made his brethren of the gown
Take care betimes to run him down;
No libertine, nor over-nice,
Addicted to no fort of vice,

Went where he pleas'd, faid what he thought;
Not rich, but ow'd no man a groat;
In state opinions à-la-mode,

He hated Wharton like a toad;

Had given the faction many a wound,
And libell'd all the junto round;
Kept company with men of wit,
Who often father'd what he writ:

His works were hawk'd in every street,
But feldom rose above a fheet:
Of late indeed the paper-stamp
Did very much his genius cramp:
And, fince he could not fpend his fire,
He now intended to retire.

Said Harley," I defire to know
"From his own mouth if this be fo;


Step to the Doctor ftraight, and fay, "I'd have him dine with me to-day." Swift feem'd to wonder what he meant, Nor would believe my Lord had fent: So never offer'd once to ftir;

But coldly said, "Your fervant, Sir !” "Does he refufe me?" Harley cried. "He does, with infolence and pride.'

Some few days after, Harley fpies
The Doctor faften'd by the eyes
At Charing-crofs among the rout,
Where painted monfters are hung out:
He pull'd the firing, and ftopp'd his coach,
Beckoning the Doctor to approach.

Swift, who could neither fly nor hide,
Came fneaking to the chariot-fide,
And offer'd many a lame excufe:
He never meant the leaft abufe-


My Lord-the honour you defign'd→ "Extremely proud-but I had din'd→→ "I'm sure I never fhould neglect— “No man alive has more refpect.” "Well, I fhall think of that no more, "If you'll be fure to come at four."

The Doctor now obeys the fummons, Likes both his company and commons Difplays his talent, fits till ten: Next day invited, comes again; Soon grows domeftic, feldom fails Either at morning or at meals : Came early, and departed late; In short, the gudgeon took the bait. My Lord would carry on the jeft, And down to Windfor takes his gueft. Swift much admires the place and air, And longs to be a canon there; In fummer round the park to ride, In winter never to refide,

• Erafmus Lewis, Efq. the treasurer's fecretary.

A canon!

canon! that's a place too mean;
No, Doctor, you fhall be a Dean;
Two dozen canons round your stall,
And you the tyrant o'er them all :
You need but cross the Irish feas,
To live in plenty, pow'r, and eafe.
Poor Swift departs; and, what is worse,
With borrow'd money in his purse;
Travels at least an hundred leagues,
And fuffers numberlefs fatigues.

Suppofe him now a Dean complete,
Demurely lolling in his seat;
The filver verge, with decent pride,
Stuck underneath his cushion-fide;
Suppofe him gone through all vexations,
Patents, inftalments, abjurations,
First-fruits and tenths, and chapter-treats;
Dues, payments, fees, demands, and cheats-
(The wicked laity's contriving
To hinder clergymen from thriving).
Now all the Doctor's money's spent,
His tenants wrong him in his rent;
The farmers, fpitefully combin'd,
Force him to take his tythes in kind:
And Parvifol* difcounts arrears
By bills for taxes and repairs.

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Poor Swift, with all his loffes vex'd,
Not knowing where to turn him next,
Above a thousand pounds in debt,
Takes horfe, and in a mighty fret
Rides day and night at such a rate,
He foon arrives at Harley's gate;
But was fo dirty, palc, and thin,
Old Read + would hardly let him in,

Said Harley, "Welcome, Reverend Dean! "What makes your worship look fo lean? "Why, fure you won't appear in town "In that old wig and rufty gown? "I doubt your heart is fet on pelf "So much that you neglect yourself. "What! I fuppofe now ftocks are high, "You've fome good purchase in your eye? "Or is your money out at ufe?"

"Truce, good my Lord, I beg a truce," The Doctor in a paffion cried, "Your raillery is mifapplied; "Experience I have dearly bought; "You know I am not worth a groat: "But you refolv'd to have your jest, "And 'twas a folly to conteft.

"Then, fince you now have done your worst, "Pray leave me where you found me first."

§ 28. Horace, Book II. Sat. VI. I'VE often wifh'd that I had clear,

For life, fix hundred pounds a-year,
A handfome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace-walk, and half a rood
Of land fet out to plant a wood.
Well, now I have all this and more,
I ask not to increase my store;
But here a grievance feems to lie,
All this is mine but till I die;

The Dean's agent, a Frenchman.

'I can't but think 'twould found more clever, To me and to my heirs for ever.

If I ne'er got or loft a groat,
By any trick, or any fault;
And if I pray by reafon's rules,
And not like forty other fools:

As thus, "Vouchsafe, O gracious Maker! "To grant me this and t'other acre : "Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, "Direct my plough to find a treasure!" But only what my ftation fits, And to be kept in my right wits, Preferve, Almighty Providence! Juft what you gave me, competence; And let me in thefe fhades compofe 'Something in verfe as true as profe; 'Remov'd from all th' ambitious fcene, Nor puff'd by pride, nor funk by fpleen,' In short, I'm perfectly content,

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Let me but live on this fide Trent;
Nor cross the channel twice a year,
To spend fix months with statesmen here.
I muft by all means come to town,
'Tis for the fervice of the crown.
"Lewis, the Dean will be of use;
"Send for him up, take no excuse.”
The toil, the danger of the feas
Great minifters ne'er think of these;
Or let it coft five hundred pound,
No matter where the money's found;
It is but fo much more in debt,

And that they ne'er confider'd


"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown; "Let my Lord know you 're come to town.' I hurry me in hafte away,

Not thinking it is levee-day;

And find his honour in a pound,

Hemm'd by a triple circle round,

Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green:
How should I thrust myself between ?
Some wag obferves me thus perplex'd,
And, fmiling, whifpers to the next :

"I thought the Dean had been too proud
"To juftle here among a crowd!"
Another, in a furly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit "So eager to express your love,

"You ne'er confider whom you shove,
"But rudely prefs before a duke."

I own I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to fhew
What I defire the world fhould know,

I get a whifper, and withdraw;
When twenty fools I never faw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Defiring I would ftand their friend.

This humbly offers me his cafe;
That begs my interest for a place;
A hundred other men's affairs,
Like bees, are humming in my ears,
"To-morrow my appeal comes on;
"Without your help, the caufe is gone."
The duke expects my Lord and you,
About fome great affair, at two.

The Lord Treasurer's porter.


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