But my lord Bolingbroke in mind As, "What's o'clock?" and, "How's the wind?" "From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay " My lord and me as far as Staines, Yet fome I know with envy fwell, Always together, téte-à-tête: "What! they admire him for his jokes? "See but the fortune of fome folks!" There flies about a strange report Of fome expiefs arriv'd at court: I'm ftopp'd by all the fools I meet, And catechis'd in ev'ry street. "You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great; "Inform us, will the Emperor treat? "Or do the prints and papers lye?" Faith, Sir, you know as much as I. "Ah, Doctor, how you love to jeft! "'Tis now no fecret."-I protest 'Tis one to me." Then tell us, pray, "When are the troops to have their pay?" And, though I folemnly declare I know no more than my lord mayor, They ftand amaz'd, and think me grown The clofeft inortal ever known. Thus, in a fea of folly toft, Thofe cares that haunt the court and town. A batter'd, fhatter'd afh bedstead; A wig, with hanging quite grown grey; A pair of beilows, without pi e; A dish which might good meat afford once; tamer By mortgage hath fecur'd the corpfe of Demar: Where'er he went, he never faw his betters; Lords, knights, and fquires, were all his humble debtors; And under hand and feal the Irish nation He that could once have half a kingdom bought, O London tavern! thou haft loft a friend, Though in thy walls he ne'er did farthing speed: He touch'd the pence, when others touch'd the pot; The hand that fign'd the mortgage paid the thot, Old as he was, no vulgar known difeafe $33. Dr. Detany's Villa. WOULD you that Delville 1 defcribe? Believe me, Sir, I will not jibe: For who would be fatirical You icarce upon the borders enter, Both walks, walls, meadows, and A little rivulet feems to fteal Next come I to your kitchen-garden, Where one poor moufe would fare but hard in; And round this garden is a walk, In fhort, in all your boasted seat, There's nothing but yourfelf that's great. § 34. Mary the Cook-Maid's Letter to Dr. Sheridan. 1723. WELL, if ever I faw fuch another man fince my mother bound my head! You a gentleman! marry come up! I wonder where you were bred. [cloth; I'm fure fuch words do not become a man of your troth. I would not give fuch language to a dog, faith and [ridan! 'tis a fhame Yes, you call'd my mafter a knave: fie, Mr. SheFor a parfon, who fhould know better things, to come out with fuch a name. Knave in your teeth, Mr. Sheridan! 'tis both a fhame and a fin; [you and all your kin: And the Dean, my mafter, is an honefter man than He has more goodnefs in his little finger than you have in your whole body: My matter is a perfonable man, and not a fpindlefhank'd hoddy-doddy. [excufe, And now, whereby I find you would fain make an Because my mafter one day, in anger, call'd you goofe Which, and I am fure I have been his fervant four years fince October, And he never call'd me worfe than fweet-heart, drunk or fober: [to my knowledge, Not that I know his reverence was ever concern'd Though you and your come-rogues keep him out fo late in your college. [eat grafs ! You fay you will eat grafs on his grave: a chriftian Whereby you now confefs yourfelf to be a goofe [die before ve; But that's as much as to fay, that my mafter should Well, well, that's as God pleafes; and I don't believe that's a truc ftory: or an afs : And fo fay I told you fo, and you may go tell my [Mary. mafter, what care I? And I don't care who knows it; 'tis all one to Every body knows that I love to tell truth, and [fhould be civil. fhame the devil; I am but a poor fervant, but I think gentlefolks Befides, you found fault with our victuals one day that you was here; Lyear; I remember it was on a Tuesday, of all days in the And Saunders the man fays you are always jefting and mocking: [fter's ftocking), Mary, faid he (one day as I was mending my maMy mafter is to fond of that minifter that keeps the fchool He would come into our kitchen, and I would pin a difhclout to his tail. Saunders, faid I, I would rather than a quart of ale | How is the greatest monarch bleft, And now I must go, and get Saunders to direct command. 35. Riddles, by Doctor Swift and his Friends, written in or about the Year 1724. On a Pen. IN youth exalted high in air, Or bathing in the waters fair, And dragg'd me from my mother's fide : And then, with heart more hard than stone, But, while I thus my life relate, My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd, On Gold. ALL-RULING tyrant of the earth, To flaves I owe my birth. THO On a Corkscrew. HOUGH I, alas! a prifoner be, My genius piercing, fharp, and bright, In fcarlet fome, and fome in white: A greater chemist none than I, Although I'm often out of cafe, I'm not afham'd to fhew my face. Though at the tables of the great I near the fide-board take my seat ; Yet the plain 'fquire, when dinner's done, Is never pleas'd till I make one : He kindly bids me near him ftand; And often takes me by the hand. I twice a day a hunting go; Nor ever fail to feize my foe; And, when I have him by the pole, I drag him upwards from his hole; Though fome are of fo ftubborn kind, I'm forc'd to leave a limb behind. I hourly wait fome fatal end; For I can break, but fcorn' to bend. On Ink. I AM jet-black, as you may fee, Or fink her to a pocky whore, To-morrow of a bitter juice; Through diftant regions I can fly, There should be quarrels among kings. When learned doctors will difpute, And fhew where they can beft confute. On the Five Senfes. ALL of us in one you'll find, Brethren of a wondrous kind; In our ken, both great and fmall; If wine's bought, or victuals dreft, One enjoys them for the rest. Pierce us all with wounding steel, One for all of us will feel. Though ten thousand cannons roar, Add to them ten thousand more, Yet but one of us is found Who regards the dreadful found. Do what is not fit to tell, There's but one of us can fmell. On an Echo. EVER fleeping, still awake, NPleafing molt when molt I speak : The delight of old and young, I can bark, or I can low; Jove, with all his loudeft thunder, That the loweft voice I fear. On a Shadow in a Glafs. BY fomething form'd, I nothing am, Yet ev'ry thing that you can name; In no place have I ever been, Yet ev'ry where I may be feen; In all things false, yet always true, I'm ftill the fame-but ever new. Lifelefs, life's perfect from I wear, Can fhew a nofe, eye, tongue, or car, Yet neither fmell, fee, tafte, or hear. All shapes and features I can boast, No flesh, no bones, no blood-no ghost: All colours, without paint, put on, And change like the cameleon. Swiftly I come, and enter there Where not a chink lets in the air; Like thought I'm in a moment gone, Nor can I ever be alone; All things on earth I imitate Fafter than nature can create; Sometimes imperial robes I wear, Anon in beggar's rags appear; A giant now, and ftraight an elf, I'm ev'ry one, but ne'er myself; Ne'er fad I mourn, ne'er glad rejoice; I move my lips, but want a voice; I ne'er was born, nor e'er can die: Then pr'ythce tell me, what am I? } On On the Vowels. WE are little airy creaturas, All of diff'rent voice and features: One of us in glass is fet, On Snow. FROM heaven I fall, though from earth I begin, No lady alive can fhew fuch a fkin. I'm bright as an angel, and light as a feather, But heavy and dark when you fqueeze me together. Though candour and truth in my afpect I bear, Yet many poor creatures I help to enfnare. Though fo much of heaven appears in my make, The fouleft impreffions I eafily take. My parent and I produce one another, The mother the daughter, the daughter the mother. On a Cannon. BEGOTTEN, and born, and dying with noise, § 36. To Quilca, a Country-House of Dr. Sheridan, in no very good Repair. 1725. LET me thy properties explain: A rotten cabbin, dropping rain; $37. The grand Question debored: Whether Hamilton's Bawn Hould be turned into a Barrack or a Mall-Houfe. 1729. THUS spoke to my Lady the Knight + full of care, "Let me have your advice in a weighty affair: * The name of an Irish fervant. "This Hamilton's bawn, whilst it fticks on my "hand, "I lofe by the houfe what I get by the land; "But how to difpofe of it to the best bidder, "For a barrack § or malt-houfe, we now muft "confider. "First, let me fuppofe I make it a malt-house, "Here I have computed the profit will fall t' us; "There's nine hundred pounds for labour and "grain, "I increase it to twelve, fo three hundred remais; "A handfome addition for wine and good cheer, "Three difhes a day, and three hogsheads a year: "With a dozen large veffels my vault shall be "ftor'd; "No little fcrub joint fhall come on my board; "And you and the Dean no more fhall combine "To ftint me at night to one bottle of wine; "Nor fhall I, for his humour, permit you to pur"loin "A ftone and a quarter of beef from my furloin. "If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant; My dear, I have ponder'd again and again on t "In poundage and drawbacks I lofe halt my rent: Whatever they give me, I must be content, "Or join with the court in every debate; "And rather than that I would lofe my eftate." Thus ended the Knight. Thus began his meck 66 wife: "It must and it fhall be a barrack, my life. "I'm grown a mere mopus; no company comes "But a rabble of tenants and rufty dull rums : "With parfons what lady can keep herself clean? "I'm all over daub'd when I fit by the Dear; "But if you will give us a barrack, my dear, "The Captain, I'm fure, will always come here; "I then thall not value his Deaufhip a straw, « For the captain, I warrant, will keep him in awe; "Or, fhould he pretend to be brifk and alert, "Will tell him that chaplains should not be fɑ "pert; "That men of his coat should be minding their "pray'rs, "And not among ladies to give themselves airs." Sir Arthur the maltter! how fipe it will + Sir Arthur Achefon, at whofe feat this was written. A large old house, two miles from Sir Arthur's feat. The army in Ireland is lodged in ftrong buildings over the whole kingdom, called barracks. A cant word in Ireland for a poor country clergyman. My lady's waiting-woman. **Two of Sir Arthur's managers. |