1699.

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.

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

Mrs. Harris's Petition. 1699.

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

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.

++ Ferris.

§§ An ufual faying of hers.

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.

1713.

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;

66

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-

66

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,

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.

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,

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

yet,

"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.

14

"Put