How your fuperior learning fhines Confider now your conversation: That cow-boys know you by your drefs! Now raise your sprits, Mr. Dean, When When to the vault you walk in ftate, To drink Sir Arthur's health and mine; 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. He fometimes used to walk with the lady. + The butler. From From you my chamber-damfels learn Now as a jefter I accoft you; Which never yet one friend has loft you. 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 dutchefs or a kitchen girl. With fuch dexterity you fit Their feveral talents with your wit, I now become your humble fuitor 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 used to direct my lady in her reading. Already Already have have improv'd fo well, my book! How enviously the ladies look, She's grown fo nice, and fo* penurious, But I admire your patience moft; That when I'm duller than a poft, 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 extensive 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; * 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 firft printed in Fog's Journal. Inftead |