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"The devil take me!" said she (blessing herself) "if ever I saw't!"

So she roar'd like a bedlam, as though I had call'd her all to naught.

So you know, what could I say to her any more? I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was

before.

Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man !

"No," said I, "Tis the same thing, the CHAPLAIN* will be here anon.'

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So the Chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart,

Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part.

So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd,

"Parson," said I, "can you cast a nativity, when a body's plunder'd?"

(Now you must know, he hates to be call'd Parson, like the devil!)

"Truly," says he, "Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil;

If your money be gone, as a learned Divine says, d'ye see,

You are no text for my handling; so take that from me:

I was never taken for a Conjurer before, I'd have you to know."

"Lord!" said I, "don't be angry,' I am sure I never thought you so;

* Dr. Swift. H.

E 2

You

You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a Parson's wife;

I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all my life."

With that he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say,

"Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away.

Well: I thought I should have swoon'd. "Lord!" said I," what shall I do?

I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!"

Then my lord call'd me: "Harry," said my Lord,

"don't cry;

I'll give you something toward thy loss: "And," says my lady, "so will I."

Oh! but, said I, what if, after all, the Chaplain won't come to ?

For that, he said, (an't please your Excellencies,) I must petition you.

The premises tenderly consider'd, I desire, your Excellencies protection,

And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection;

And, over and above, that I may have your Excellencies' letter,

With an order for the Chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better:

And then your poor petitioner, both night and day,

Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray.

* A cant word of lord and lady Berkeley to Mrs. Harris. H.

A BALLAD,

A BALLAD, ON THE GAME OF TRAFFIC.

WRITTEN AT THe castle of DUBLIN, 1699.

My Lord,* to find out who must deal,

Y

Delivers cards about,

But the first knave does seldom fail

To find the doctor out.

But then his honour cry'd, gad zooks!
And seem'd to knit his brow:

For on a knave he never looks
But h'thinks upon Jack How.†
My lady, though she is no player,
Some bungling partner takes,
And, wedg'd in corner of a chair,
Takes snuff, and holds the stakes.

Dame Floyd looks out in grave suspense
For pair royals and sequents;
But, wisely cautious of her pence,
The castle seldom frequents.

Quoth Herries, fairly putting cases,
I'd won it on my word,
If I had but a pair of aces,

And could pick up a third.

But Weston has a new-cast gown
On Sundays to be fine in,
And, if she can but win a crown,

'Twill just new dye the lining.

"With these is parson Swift,

"Not knowing how to spend his time, "Does make a wretched shift,

"To deafen them with puns and rhyme."

* The earl of Berkeley. H. † Paymaster to the army. H.

A BALLAD,

(54

A BALLAD, TO THE TUNE OF, THE
CUT-PURSE.*

WRITTEN IN AUGUST 1702.

I.

ONCE on a time, as old stories rehearse,

A friar would need show his talent in Latin; But was sorely put to't in the midst of a verse, Because he could find no word to come pat in: Then all in the place

He left a void space,

And so went to bed in a desperate case: When behold the next morning a wonderful riddle! He found it was strangely fill'd up in the middle. CHO. Let censuring critics then think what they list on't;

Who would not write verses with such an

assistant?

II.

This put me the friar into an amazement :

For he wisely considered it must be a sprite; That he came through the keyhole or in at the casement;

And it needs must be one that could both read and write:

* Lady Betty Berkeley, finding the preceding verses in the author's room unfinished, wrote under them the concluding stanza; which gave occasion to this ballad, written by the author in a counterfeit hand, as if a third person had done it. SWIFT.

Yet

Yet he did not know

If it were friend or foe,

Or whether it came from above or below: However, 'twas civil, in angel or elf,

For he ne'er could have fill'd it so well of himself. CHO. Let censuring, &c.

III.

Even so Master Doctor had puzzled his brains
In making a ballad, but was at a stand:
He had mixt little wit with a great deal of pains,
When he found a new help from invisible hand.
Then, good doctor Swift,

Pay thanks for the gift,

For you freely must own, you were at a dead

lift ;

And, though some malicious young spirit did do't, You may know by the hand it had no cloven foot. CHO. Let censuring, &c.

THE DISCOVERY.

WHEN wise lord Berkeley first came here,*

Statesmen and mob expected wonders,

Nor thought to find so great a peer

Ere a week past committing blunders.

Till on a day cut out by fate,

When folks came thick to make their court,

Out slipt a mystery of state,

To give the town and country sport.

* To Ireland, as one of the lords justices. H.

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