THE

DEAN'S COMPLAINT, TRANSLATED

AND ANSWERED.

DOCTOR.

DEAF, giddy, helpless, left alone.

ANSWER.

Except the first, the fault's your own.

DOCTOR.

To all my friends a burden grown.

ANSWER.

Because to few you will be shewn.
Give them good wine, and meat to stuff,
You may have company enough.

DOCTOR.

No more I hear my church's bell,
Than if it rang out for my knell.

ANSWER.

Then write and read, 'twill do as well.

DOCTOR.

At thunder now no more I start,
Than at the rumbling of a cart.

ANSWER.

Think then of thunder when you ft.

DOCTOR.

Nay, what's incredible, alack!
No more I hear a woman's clack.

ANSWER.

A woman's clack, if I have skill,
Sounds somewhat like a throwster's mill
But louder than a bell, or thunder:
That does, I own, increase my wonder.

EPIGRAM BY MR. BOWYER.

"IN SYLLABAM LONGAM IN VOCE VERTIGINOSUS A. D. SWIFT CORREPTAM."

MUSARUM antistes, Phœbi numerosus alumnus, Vix omnes numeros Vertiginosus habet. Intentat charo capiti vertigo ruinam :

Oh! servet cerebro nata Minerva caput. Vertigo nimium longa est, divina poeta ;

Dent tibi Pierides, donet Apollo, brevem.

THE DEAN'S MANNER OF LIVING.*

ON rainy days alone I dine
Upon a chick and pint of wine.
On rainy days I dine alone,
And pick my chicken to the bone;
But this my servants much enrages,
No scraps remain to save board-wages.
In weather fine I nothing spend,
But often spunge upon a friend;
Yet, where he's not so rich as I,
I pay my club, and so good b'ye.

*It is singular to observe how nearly the Dean's account of his housekeeping agrees with the following lines in a satire against him:

Or is he settling schemes of life?
Money, besure; besure, no wife.
I' th' morning fixing water-gruel,

Tea is damn'd dear, and will not do well.

At noon, no dishes; no! a chop,

Stole in by John, from neighbouring shop,
Where diet, ready-dressed, is sold.

A grisken hot, or sliver cold;

And for the night, a crust of bread,
A pint of wine, and so to bed.

Unless, when winds have blown full east,
And packets bring a rebel guest,

Full fraught with news; then every door
Being shut, to chat their treason o'er,
And o'er again; full bowls go round,

With sprightly mirth and faction crown'd;

And John is bid to cut, and cut on,
Till a whole yard of neck of mutton
He into chops dissects, to cloy
Th' admiring family with joy.

But if no newsmonger appears,
Or if h' advise from adverse stars,
Thinly at home the Dean is fed,
Or visits for his daily bread;
And John and Nell, with whey-like beer,
Brown loaf and cheese, (most hearty fare,)
Having indulged, may take their ease,
Love, snore, or sing, or what they please.

GULLIVERIANA, Lond. 1728, p. 42.

VERSES MADE FOR FRUIT-WOMEN, &c.

COME, follow me by the smell,
Here are delicate onions to sell;
I promise to use you well.
They make the blood warmer,
You'll feed like a farmer;

For this is every cook's opinion,
No savoury dish without an onion ;
But, lest your kissing should be spoil'd,
Your onions must be thoroughly boil'd :

Or else you may spare
Your mistress a share,

The secret will never be known:
She cannot discover

The breath of her lover,
But think it as sweet as her own.

OYSTERS.

I cry :

CHARMING Oysters
My masters, come buy,
So plump and so fresh,
So sweet is their flesh,
No Colchester oyster
Is sweeter and moister :
Your stomach they settle,
And rouse up your mettle :
They'll make you a dad
Of a lass or a lad;
And madam your wife
They'll please to the life;
Be she barren, be she old,
Be she slut, or be she scold,
Eat my oysters, and lie near her,
She'll be fruitful, never fear her.

HERRINGS.

Be not sparing,

Leave off swearing.

Buy my herring

Fresh from Malahide,*

Better never was tried.

Come, eat them with pure fresh butter and mustard, Their bellies are soft, and as white as a custard.

* Malahide, a village five miles from Dublin, famous for oysters. -F.