Imatges de pÓgina
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How your fuperior learning fhines
Above our neighb'ring dull divines!
At Beggar's Opera not fo full pit
Is feen, as when you mount our pulpit.

Confider now your converfation: Regardful of your age and station, You ne'er was known, by paffion ftir'd, To give the leaft offenfive word: But ftill, whene'er you filence break, Watch ev'ry fyllable you speak : Your ftile fo clear, and fo concise, We never afk to hear you twice. But then, a parfon so genteel, So nicely clad from head to heel; So fine a gown, a band fo clean, As well become St. Patrick's dean, Such reverential awe exprefs, That cow-boys know you by your dress! Then, if our neigb'ring friends come here, How proud are we when you appear, With fuch addrefs and graceful port, As clearly fhews you bred at court!

Now raise your fprits, Mr. Dean, I lead you to a nobler fcene;

When

When to the vault you walk in state,
In quality of* butler's mate;
You next to + Dennis bear the fway:
Το you we often trust the key :
Nor can he judge with all his art
So well, what bottle holds a quart :
What pints may best for bottles pass,
Juft to give every man his glass:
When proper to produce the best;
And what may ferve a common guest.
With Dennis you did ne'er combine,
Not you, to fteal your master's wine;
Except a bottle now and then,
To welcome brother ferving men ;
But that is with a good defign,
To drink Sir Arthur's health and mine;
Your mafter's honour to maintain ;
And get the like returns again.

Your Iufher's poft muft next be handled: How blefs'd am I by fuch a man led! Under whose wife and careful guardship I now despise fatigue and hardship: Familiar grown to dirt and wet, Though daggled round, I fcorn to fret:

He fometimes used to di

rect the butler.

+ The butler.

1 He fometimes used to walk with the lady.

From

From you my chamber-damfels learn
My broken hose to patch and darn.

you.

Now as a jefter I accoft you; Which never yet one friend has loft You judge fo nicely to a hair, How far to go, and when to spare. By long experience grown fo wife, Of every taste to know the fize, There's none fo ignorant or weak + To take offence at what you speak. Whene'er you joke, 'tis all a cafe Whether with Dermot, or his grace; With Teague O' Murphey, or an earl, A dutchels or a kitchen girl. With fuch dexterity you fit. Their feveral talents with your wit, That Moll the chamber-maid can smoke, And Gaghagan ‡ take ev'ry joke.

I now become your humble fuitor
To let me praise you as my § tutor.
Poor I, a favage bred and born,
By you inftructed ev'ry morn,

*The neighbouring ladies were no great underftanders of raillery.

The clown that cut down the old thorn at Market

Hill. See the poem.

In bad weather the author ufed to direct my lady in her reading.

Already

Already have have improv'd fo well,
That I have almoft learnt to fpell:
The neighbours, who come here to dine,
Admire to hear me fpeak fo fine.
How enviously the ladies look,
When they surprise me at my book!
And fure as they're alive at night
As foon as gone will show their fpight:
Good lord! what can my lady mean,
Converfing with that rufty dean!
She's grown fo nice, and fo* penurious,
With Socrates and Epicurius.
How could fhe fit the live-long day,
Yet never ask us once to play?

But I admire your patience moft; That when I'm duller than a post, Nor can the plaineft word pronounce, You neither fume, nor fret, nor flounce; Are fo indulgent, and so mild, As if I were a darling child. So gentle is your whole proceeding, That I could spend my life in reading.

You merit new employments daily: Our thatcher, ditcher, gard'ner, baily. Ignorant ladies often mistake the word penurious for nice and dainty.

And to a genius fo extenfive
No work is grievous or offenfive;
Whether your fruitful fancy lies
To make for pigs convenient ftyes;
Or ponder long with anxious thought
To banish rats that haunt our vault:
Nor have you grumbled, rev'rend dean,
To keep our poultry fweet and clean;
Tofweep the manfion-houfe they dwell in;
And cure the rank unfav'ry smelling.

Now enter as the dairy hand-maid: Such charming butter never man made. Let others with fanatic face Talk of their milk for babes of grace; From tubs their fnuffling nonfenfe utter: Thy milk fhall make us tubs of butter. The bishop with his foot may burn it †, But with his hand the dean can churn it. How are the fervants overjoy'd. To fee thy deanfhip thus employ'd!

*A way of making butter for breakfaft, by filling a bottle with cream and fhaking it till the butter comes.

+ It is a common faying, when the milk burns to, that the devil or the bifhop has fet

VOL. VII.

his foot in it, the devil having been called. bishop of hell; fee a fatire on the Irish bishops near the end of this volume, faid to have been first printed in Fog's Journal.

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