And tell how little weight he sets And since he owns the King of Sweden Now all his hopes are in the Czar : Why, Muscovy is not so far; Down the Black Sea, and up the Streights, 2 A Tory newswriter. 3 Mr. Clement Barry. MARY THE COOK-MAID'S LETTER TO DR. SHERIDAN. 1723. WELL, if ever I saw such another man since my mother bound my head! You a gentleman! marry come up, I wonder where you were bred, I am sure such words does not become a man of your cloth; I would not give such language to a dog, faith and troth. Yes, you call'd my master a knave: fye! Mr. Sheridan: 'tis a shame For a parson, who should know better things, to come out with such a name. Knave in your teeth! Mr. Sheridan; 'tis both a shame and a sin: Ánd the Dean, my master, is an honester man than you and all your kin : He has more goodness in his little finger than you have in your whole body: My master is a personable man, and not a spindle-shank'd hoddy-doddy. And now, whereby I find you would fain make an excuse, Because my master one day, in goose; anger, call'd you Which, and I am sure I have been his servant four years since October, And he never call'd me worse than sweetheart, drunk or sober; Not that I know his reverence was ever concern'd to my knowledge, Though you and your come-rogues keep him out so late in your wicked College. You say you will eat grass on his grave. A Christian eat grass! Whereby you now confess yourself to be a goose or an ass. ye; But that's as much as to say, that my master should die before Well, well, that's as God pleases; and I don't believe that's a true story; And so say I told you so, and you may go tell my master; 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 servant; but I think gentlefolks should be civil. Besides, 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, says you are always jesting and mocking. 'Mary, (said he, one day as I was mending my master's stocking) My master is so fond of that minister that keeps the school I thought my master a wise man, but that man makes him a fool.' 'Saunders, (said I,) I would rather than a quart of ale He would come into our kitchen, and I would pin a dishclout to his tail.' And now I must go and get Saunders to direct this letter, For I write but a sad scrawl; but my sister Marget she writes better. Well, but I must run and make the bed before my master comes from prayers; And see, now, it strikes ten, and I hear him coming up stairs: Whereof I could say more to your verses, if I could write written hand; And so I remain, in a civil way, your servant to command, MARY. CARBERIE RUPES, INCOMITATU CORGAGENSI, APUD HIBERNICOS. SCRIPSIT JUN. ANN. DOM. 1723. Ecce ingens fragmen scopuli, quod vertice summo Hinc atque hinc a ponto ad pontum pervia Phœbo. Sed, cum sævit Hyems, et venti, carcere rupto, CARBERY ROCKS, IN THE COUNTY OF CORKE, IRELAND'. Lo! from the top of yonder cliff, that shrouds 1 This translation of the preceding poem was made by Mr, W. Dunkin, M. A. for whom the Dean expressed a great regard on account of his ingenious performances, though unacquainted with him. |