From lady's toilet next he brought
Noise, scandal, and malicious thought.
These Jove put in an old close-stool,
And with them mix'd the vain, the fool.
But now came on his greatest care,
Of what he should his paste prepare;
For common clay or finer mould
Was much too good, such stuff to hold.
At last he wisely thought on mud;
So rais'd it up, and call'd it-Cludd.
With this, the lady well content,
Low courtsey'd, and away she went.'

*These last three Pieces are all taken from the Whimsical Medley; which contains many others that are unquestionably Swift's productions, and as such printed, although their Author's name is not there mentioned, no more than in the four numbers above given. I consider the last three as having Swift for their author; Jst. From their similitude to his style and sentiments.

2dly. Because they are merely of a local nature, and relate to transactions that would scarcely have interested any other person, and to individuals connected with himself only. Thus, he had the living of Dunlavin, which is in the vicinity of Blessington; this would have led him to compose the Piece, No. III.; and that he knew William Crowe, appears from his Account of Lord Wharton. -He was a relation of the Duke of Ormond; which, if every other ground were wanting, would have led Swift to compose the Parody, No. II.

3dly. From allusions in his Works. Thus, one of his poems on Vanbrugh, begins,

When Mother Cludd rose up from play--.

Here he plainly alludes to No. IV.

No.

No. V.

A Conference between Sir H. P-ce's Chariot, and Mrs. D. St-d's Chair..

-CHARIOT.

My pretty dear Cuz, tho' I've rov'd the town o'er, To dispatch in an hour some visits a score;

Tho', since first on the wheels, I've been every day.
At the 'Change, at a raffling, at church, or a play;
And the fops of the town are pleas'd with the notion
Of calling your slave the perpetual motion;-
Tho' oft at your door I have whin'd [out] my love,
my Knight does grin his at your Lady above;
Yet ne'er before this, tho' I nsed all my care,
I e'er was so happy to meet my dear Chair;
And since we're so near, like birds of a feather;
Let's e'en, as they say, set our horses together.

As

CHAIR.

By your aukward address, you're that thing, which

should carry,

With one footinan behind, our lover Sir Harry.
By your language, I judge, you think me a wench
He that makes love to me, must make it in French.
Thou that's drawn by two beasts, and carry st a brute,
Canst thou vainly e'er hope, I'll answer thy suit?r
Tho' sometimes you pretend to appear with your six,
No regard to their colour, their sexes you mix:
Then on the grand-paw you'd look very great,
With your new-fashion'd glasses, and nasty old seat.
Thus a beau I have seen strutt with a cock'd hat,
And newly rigg'd out, with a dirty cravat.

You may think that you

make a figure most shining,

But its plain that you have an old cloak for a lining. Are those double-gilt nails? Where's the lustre of Kerry,

To set off the Knight, and to finish the Jerry?

If

you hope I'll be kind, you must tell me what's due In George's-lane for you, ere I'll buckle to.

CHARIOT.

Why, how now, Doll Diamond, you're very alert;
Is it your French breeding has made you so pert?
Because I was civil, here's a stir with a pox:

Who is it that values your

or your

fox?

Sure 'tis to her honour, he ever should bed

His bloody red hand, to her bloody red head.
You're proud of your gilding; but, I tell you, each nail

Is only [just] ting'd with a rub at her tail:

And altho' it may pass for gold on each ninny,

Sure we know a Bath shilling soon from a guinea.

Nay, her foretop's a cheat; each morn she does

black it,

Yet, ere it be night, it's the same with her placket.
I'll ne'er be run down any more with your cant;
Your velvet was wore before in a mant,

On the back of her mother; but now 'tis much dul

ler,

The fire she carries hath changed its colour.*

Those creatures that draw me you never would mind, If you'd but look on your own Pharaoh's lean kine: They're taken for spectres, they're so meagre and

spare,

Drawn damnably low by your sorrel mare.

Fire is here used as a dissyllable,

We'

We know how your lady was in you befriended;
You're not to be paid for, 'till the lawsuit is ended:
But her bond it is good, he need not to doubt;
She is two or three years above being out.

Could my Knight be advis'd, he should ne'er spend his vigour

On one he can't hope of e'er making bigger.

From the same Whimsical Medley is taken the above Dialogue; and the Lady mentioned in it is Dorothy Stopford, who, about 1704, married Edward the fourth Earl of Meath, and, after his death, became the wife of L. General Richard Gorges. This Piece is therefore prior to 1704, and probably is by Swift. Under the names of Dicky and Dolly, Swift exerted his malice against this lady and her second husband. She was sister to Emilia, who married Theophilus, the first Lord Newtown. See Lodge, vol. III. p. 339; and vol. I. p. 190.-That Swift introduced dialogues between inanimate beings, we know, from his Dialogue between Richmond Lodge and Marble Hill; with which this last may be compared-In it we find the rhyme between the words ninny and guinea, which we may also observe in some of his undoubted works.

L

¡No. VI.

A Dialogue between Sir William Handcock and Thady Fitzpatrick, in the Devil's ante-chamber.

THADY.

You're welcome, Sir William; by my shoul and salvation,

I rejoice for to see one from my own nation:

We have long wanted news: was it growing wealthy, Has made all my brothers so damnable healthy?

When I think of their number, I look for them faster;
Sure they are not grown honest, and quitted their
Master.

Come, never look squeamish, nor be out of order,
We're here on a level, good Master Recorder.

Let me know what has pass'd, and you'll find I'll be civil,

And speak a good word for you here to the Devil.

SIR WILLIAM.

Oh, thank you, dear Thady, and must own for my part,
It's much more your goodness, than it is my desert;
But, to speak for his fee, you know 'twas our calling;
Which because I could not, I then fell a bawling.
I never stuck out to quote a false case;

And to back it, I e'er had an impudent face;
Or on my right hand I had always my brother,
To vouch, which we still did, the one for the other.
To be sure, to be rich, was always my guide;"
To take, when I could, a fee on each side.
All this you well know. But pr'ythee now tell,
If I have any more acquaintance in hell.
Is not that Tullamore? *

THADY.

You see how he trudges At the head of a shoal of unrighteous judges. By oppression and cheating, by rapine and lust, We shall in good time have the rest of the Trust. But our Master, the Devil, has solemnly swore, Till they're out of commission, not to admit more.

• John Moore, of Croghan, in the King's County; created in 1715, Baron Moore of Tullamore; in 1716, and again in Feb. 1722-3, appointed one of the Lords Commissioners for holding the Great Seal during the absence of Lord Chancellor Middleton.

If