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. I am fure fuch words do not become a man of your cloth; I would not give fuch language to a dog, faith and troth. Yes, you call'd my master a knave: fie, Mr Sheridan! 'tis a fhame 5 For a parfon, who fhould know better things, to come out with fuch a name: Knave in your teeth, Mr Sheridan! 'tis both a shame and a fin; And the Dean my mafter is an honefter man than you and all your kin: He has more goodness in his little finger, than you have in your whole body: My master is a personable man, and not a spindlefhank'd hoddy-doddy. 10 And now, whereby I find you would fain make an excufe, Because my mafter one day, in anger, called you goofe; Which, and I am fure, I have been his fervant four years fince October, And he never call'd me worse than fweet-heart, drunk or fober : Not that I know his Reverence was ever concern'd to my knowledge, 15 Tho' you and your come-rogues keep him out fo late in your wicked college. You fay you will eat grafs on his grave: a Chriftian eat grafs! Whereby you now confefs yourself to be a goofe or an afs: But that's as much as to fay, that my mafter should die before ye; ́ Well, well, that's as God pleases; and I don't believe that s a true story: 20 And fo fay I told you fo, and you may go tell my master; what care ? And I don't care who knows it; 'tis all one to Mary. Every body knows, that I love to tell truth, and fhame the devil. I am but a poor fervant; but I think gentlefolks fhould be civil. Befides, you found fault with our victuals one day that you was here; 25 I remember it was on a Teufday, of all days in the year. And Saunders the man fays you are always jefting and mocking: Mary, faid he, (one day as I was mending my mafter's stocking), My mafter is fo fond of that minifter that keeps the fchool 30 I thought my master a wife man, but that man makes him a fool. Saunders, faid I, I would rather than a quart of ale He would come into our kitchen, and I would pin a difhclout to his tail. ་ And now I must go, and get Saunders to direct this letter; For I write but a fad fcrawl; but my fifter Marget, fhe writes better. 35 Well, but I muit run and make the bed, before my mafter comes from pray'rs; And tee now, it strikes ten, and I hear him coming up flairs: Whereof I could fay more to your verses, if I could write written hand: And fo I remain, in a civil way, your fervant to com mand, MARY. A A DIALOGUE between Mad MULLI NIX and TIMOTHY. M. I Written in the year 1728. Own, 'tis not my bread and butter ; Why ever in these raging fits, When, if you search the kingdom round, T. 'Twixt you and me, G-damn the liars. T. -G-damn the liars again. Did not an Earl but lately vote, 5 10 To bring in (I could cut his throat) Our whole accounts of public debts? 15 M. Lord! how this frothy coxcomb frets! [afide. Whose fleet, 'tis all our friends opinion, M. These brangling jars of Whig and Tory Are ftale, and worn as Troy-town story. 20 25 Your faction, when their game was new, Might want fuch noify fools as you; 30 35 You clatter ftill your brazen kettle. The leaders whom you lifted under, Have dropt their arms, and feiz'd the plunder; With plots, and Jacobites, and treason; Thy fcrew'd up front, thy ftate-grimace, 50 Thy formal nods, important fneers, Thy whifp'rings foifted in all ears, (Which are, whatever you may think, But nonfenfe wrapt up in a stink), Have made thy presence, in a true sense, you 55 * Sir Martin Marall is a character in one of Dryden's comedies. Sir Martin was to ferenade his mistress; but as he could not play, his man undertook to conceal himself, and do it for him, while he fhould thrum the inftrument; but this ingenious projec mifcarried, by the knight's continuing his exercise when the mufic was at an end. Huwkef. T. My good friend Mullinix, forbear; I vow to G-, you're too fevere : If it could ever yet be known my blood, My quondam friends are grown fo cold, 60 65 70 75 M. Tim, you mistake the matter quite ; The Tories you are their delight; And should you act a diff'rent part, Be grave and wife, 'twould break their heart. 80 Why, Tim, you have a taste I know, And often fee a puppet-/bow: Obferve, the audience is in pain, But when they hear his rufty voice, 85 With what impatience they rejoice! Which the true mother, which pretender; 90 Should Fauftus, with the devil behind him, |