PROCEED We to your preaching next:
How nice you fplit the hardest Text!
How your fuperior Learning fhines
Above our neighb'ring dull Divines!
At Beggar's-Op'ra not fo full Pit
Is feen, as when you mount our Pulpit,
CONSIDER 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 Silence break,
Watch ev'ry Syllable you speak:
Your Style fo clear, and fo concife,
We never ask to hear you twice.
But then, a Parfon fo genteel,
So nicely clad from Head to Heel;
So fine a Gown, a Band fo clean,
As well become St. P
Such reverential Awe exprefs,
That Cow-boys know you by your Drefs!
Then, if our neighb'ring Friends come here,
How proud are we when you appear!
With fuch Addrefs, and graceful Port,
As clearly shows you bred at Court!
Now raise your Spirits, Mr. D---n :
I lead you to a nobler Scene;
The Author preached but once while he was there.
When to the Vault you walk in State,
In Quality of Butler's Mate;
You, next to Dennis bear the Sway:
To you we often truft 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 ev'ry Man his Glass:
When proper to produce the beft;
And, what may ferve a common Guest,
With Dennis you did ne'er combine,
Not you, to steal your Mafter's Wine;
Except a Bottle now and then,
To welcome Brother Serving-men;
But, that is with a good Defign,
To drink Sir A
r's Health and mine:
Your Master's Honour to maintain;
YOUR J Ufher's Poft must next be handled :
How blefs't 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 direct the Butler.
+ The Butler.
He fometimes used to walk with the Lady:
From you my Chamber-Damfels learn
My broken Hose to patch and dern.
Now, as a Jefter, I accost 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 ev'ry Tafte to know the Size;
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'Murphy, or an Earl;
A Dutchefs or a Kitchen Girl.
With fuch Dexterity you fit
Their fev'ral Talents to your Wit,
That Moll the Chamber-maid can fmoak,
And Gaghagan take ev'ry Joke.
I Now become your humble Suitor, To let me praise you as my † Tutor. Poor I, a Savage bred and born,
By you inftructed ev'ry Morn,
* The neighbouring Ladies were no great Understanders of Raillery.
In bad Weather the Author used to direct my Lady in her Reading.
Already have improv'd fo well,
That I have almoft learn't to fpell:
The Neighbours who come here to dine,
Admire to hear me speak fo fine.
How enviously the Ladies look,
When they furprize me at my Book!
And, fure as they're alive, at Night;
As foon as gone, will show their Spight:
Good Lord! what can my Lady mean,
Converfing with that rusty D---n!
She's grown fo nice, and fo* penurious,
With Socratus and Epicurius.
How could the 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 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 fpend my Life in reading.
You merit new Employments daily :
Our Thatcher, Ditcher, Gard'ner, Baily.
And, to a Genius fo extenfive,
No Work is grievous or offenfive.
Ignorant Ladies often mistake the Word Penurious for nice,
Whether, your fruitful Fancy lies
To make for Pigs convenient Styes:
Or, ponder long with anxious Thought,
To banish Rats that haunt our Vault.
Nor have you grumbled, rev'rend D---n,
To keep our Poultry fweet and clean;
To sweep the Manfion-house 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 Fanatick Face,
Talk of their Milk for Babes of Grace;
From Tubs their snuffling Nonsense utter:
Thy Milk fhall make us Tubs of Butter.
The Bishop with his Foot may burn it;
But, with his Hand, the D-- n can churn it.
How are the Servants overjoy'd
To fee thy D---nship thus employ'd!
Inftead of poring on a Book,
Providing Butter for the Cook.
Three Morning-Hours you tofs and shake
The Bottle, till your Fingers ake:
Hard is the Toil, nor fmall the Art,
The Butter from the Whey to part:
Behold; a frothy Substance rife;
Be cautious, or your Bottle flies.
AW'ay of making Butter for Breakfast, by filling a Bottle
with Cream, and baking it till the Butter comes.
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