To foreign prelates make a slavish court, Oh! had I been apostle to the Swiss 2 Wood's ruinous project against the people of Ireland was supported by Sir Robert in Walpole in 1724. The absentees, who spend the income of their Irish estates, places, and pensions, in England. A PASTORAL DIALOGUE BETWEEN RICHMOND-LODGE AND MARBLE-HILL. WRITTEN JUNE, 1727, JUST AFTER THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF GEORGE I. Richmond-Lodge is a house with a small park belonging to the crown it was usually granted by the crown for a lease of years. The Duke of Ormond was the last who had it: after his exile, it was given to the Prince of Wales by the King. The Prince and Princess usually passed their summer there. It is within a mile of Richmond. Marble-Hill is a house built by Mrs. Howard, then of the bed-chamber, now Countess of Suffolk, and Groom of the Stole to the Queen. It is on the Middlesex side, near Twickenham, where Mr. Pope lives, and about two miles from Richmond-Lodge. Mr. Pope was the contriver of the gardens, Lord Herbert the architect, and the Dean of St. Patrick's, chief butler, and keeper of the icehouse. Upon King George's death these two houses met, and had the following dialogue. In spite of Pope, in spite of Gay, This couple met to talk of news, For by old proverbs it appears That walls have tongues, and hedges ears. MAR.-H. Quoth Marble-Hill, Right well I ween Your mistress now is grown a queen; You'll find it soon by woful proof; She'll come no more beneath your roof. RỊCH.-L. The kingly prophet well evinces But now he's grown a king, God wot, You see when folks have got their ends, MAR.-H. My house was built but for a show, My lady's empty pockets know; And now she will not have a shilling upon But we, unlucky and unwise, Must fall because our masters rise. RICH.-L. My master, scarce a fortnight since, Was grown as wealthy as a prince, But now it will be no such thing, And by his crown will nothing get, But, like a king, to run in debt. MAR.-H. No more the Dean, that grave divine, Shall keep the key of my no-wine, My icehouse rob, as heretofore, And steal my artichokes no more; Poor Patty Blount no more be seen RICH.-L. Here wont the Dean, when he's to seek To spunge a breakfast once a week; To cry the bread was stale, and mutter Complaints against the royal butter: But now I fear it will be said No butter sticks upon his bread. We soon shall find him full of spleen For want of tattling to the queen, Stunning her royal ears with talking, His reverence and her highness walking; Whilst Lady Charlotte, like a stroller, Sits mounted on the garden-roller; A goodly sight to see her ride, With ancient Mirmont at her side; In velvet cap his head lies warm, His hat for show below his arm. MAR.-H. Some South Sea broker from the city Will purchase me; the more's the pity; Lay all my fine plantations waste To fit them to his vulgar taste; Changed for the worse in every part, My master Pope will break his heart. RICH.-L. In my own Thames may I be drowned, To place me with the Prince of Wales es; Plain loyalty, not built on hope, I leave to your contriver, Pope : MAR.-H. Then let him come and take a nap In summer on my verdant lap; Prefer our villas, where the Thames is, Nor shall I dull in silence sit, For 'tis to me he owes his wit; An idle rogue who spends his quartridge Three times a-week to brush my gown. RICH.-L. I pity you, dear Marble-Hill! But hope to see you flourish still. All happiness- -and so adieu! MAR.-H. Kind Richmond-Lodge, the same to you. END OF VOL. XXXII. C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. |