MARY THE COOK-MAID'S LETTER TO DR. SHERIDAN. 1723. WELL, if ever I saw such another man fince my mother bound my head! You a gentleman! marry come up! I wonder where you were bred. I'm fure fuch words do not become a man of cloth; your I would not give fuch language to a dog, faith and troth. Yes, you call'd my mafter a knave: fie, Mr. She ridan! 'tis a fhame For a parfon, who fhould know better things, to come out with fuch a name. Knave in your teeth, Mr. Sheridan! 'tis both a fhame and a fin; And the Dean my mafter is an honefter man than you and all He has more goodnefs in his little finger than you have in your whole body: My mafter is a parfonable man, and not a spindlefhank'd hoddy-doddy. And now, whereby I find you would fain make an excufe, Because my mafter one day, in anger, call'd you goofe : Which, and I am fure I have been his fervant four years fince October, And he never call'd me worfe than fweet-heart, drunk or fober: Not that I know his reverence was ever concern'd to my knowledge, Though you and your come-rogues keep him out fo late in your college. You fay you will eat grafs on his grave: a chriftian eat grafs ! Whereby you now confess yourself to be a goose or an afs: But that's as much as to fay, that my mafter should die before ye; Well, well, that's as God pleases; and I don't believe that's a true ftory: And fo fay I told you fo, and you may go tell my mafter; what care I? And I don't care who knows it; 'tis all one to Mary. Every body knows that I love to tell truth, and shame the devil; I am but a poor fervant; but I think gentlefolks fhould be civil. Befides, you found fault with our victuals one day that you was here;. I remember it was on a Tuesday of all days in the year. And Saunders the man fays you are always jefting and mocking: Mary, faid he, (one day as I was mending my mafter's ftocking;) My master is fo fond of that minister that keeps the fchool I thought my master a wife man, but that man makes him a fool. Saunders, Saunders, faid I, I would rather than a quart of ale He would come into our kitchen, and I would pin a difh-clout to his tail. And now I must go, and get Saunders to direct this letter; For I write but a fad fcrawl; but my fifter Marget, the writes better. Well, but I must run and make the bed, before my mafter comes from prayers; And fee now, it strikes ten, and I hear him coming up ftairs; Whereof I could fay more to your verfes, if I could write written hand: And so I remain, in a civil way, your fervant to command, MARY. A NEW-YEAR'S-GIFT FOR BEC*. 1723-4. RETURNING Janus now prepares, For Bec, a new fupply of cares, Sent in a bag to Doctor Swift, Who thus difplays the New-year's gift. Firft, this large parcel brings you tidings Of our good Dean's eternal chidings; Mrs. Dingley, Stella's friend and companion. T Behold Behold a cage with fparrows fill'd, This ball of wax your ears will darken, Left you the town may have lefs trouble in, your Quilca's * cares to Dublin, For which he fends this empty fack; And so take all upon your back. DINGLEY AND BRENT. A S ON G. To the tune of, "Ye Commons and Peers." DINGLEY and Brent, Wherever they went, Ne'er minded a word that was fpoken; They ne'er troubled their head, *Country-house of Dr. Sheridan. + Dr. Swift's houfe-keeper. Should Should Solomon wife In majesty rise, And fhew them his wit and his learning; " They never would hear, But turn the deaf ear, As a matter they had no concern in. Comes Dingley, and asks you, what was it? And, curious to know, Away she will go To feek an old rag in the closet. TO STELLA. 1723-4. Written on the DAY of her BIRTH, but not on the SUBJECT When I was SICK in BED. TORMENTED with ineeffant pains, Time was, when I could yearly pay With gall in every word I fpeak, |