So I was a-dream'd, methought, that we went and fearch'd the folks round,

And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's box, ty'd in a rag, the money was found.

So next morning we told Whittle t, and he fell afwearing:

Then my dame Wadgar ‡ came; and fhe, you know, is thick of hearing.

Dame, said I, as loud as I could bawl, do you know what a lofs I have had ?

Nay, faid fhe, my lord Colway's § folks are all

very

fad;

For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuefday without

fail.

Pugh faid I, but that's not the bufinefs that I ail. Says Cary**, fays he, I have been a fervant this five and twenty years, come spring,

And in all the places I liv'd I never heard of fuch a

thing.

Yes, fays the fteward ++, I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's,

Such a thing as this happen'd juft about the time of goofeberries.

* Wife to one of the footmen.

+ Earl of Berkeley's valet.

The old deaf housekeeper.

Galway.

The earl of Drogheda, who with the primate was

to fucceed the two earls.

** Clerk of the kitchen.

tt Ferris.

So

СА

So I went to the party fufpected, and I found her full of grief,

(Now you must know, of all things in the world, I hate a thief).

However, I was refolv'd to bring the discourse flily

about:

Mrs. Dukes, faid I, here's an ugly accident has happen'd out :

'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a louse*; But the thing I ftand upon is the credit of the house. *Tis true, feven pounds, four fhillings, and fix pence, makes a great hole in my wages:

Befides, as they say, fervice is no inheritance in these

ages.

Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and every body under

ftands,

That though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands.

The devil take me! faid fhe (bleffing herfelf) if ever I faw 't!

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

So you know, what could I fay to her any more?

I e'en left her, and came away as wife as I was before. Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man!

No, faid I, 'tis the fame thing, the chaplain will be

here anon.

An usual faying of hers.

So

So the chaplain * came in. Now the fervants fay he is my fweetheart,

Becaufe 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, faid I, can you caft a nativity, when a body's plunder'd ?

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

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

If your money be gone, as a learned divine fays, d'ye fee,

You are no text for my handling; fo take that from me: I was never taken for a conjurer before, I'd have you to know.

Lord! faid I, don't be angry, I am fure I never thought you fo;

You know I honour the cloth; I defign to be a parfon's

wife;

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

life.

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

Now you may go hang yourself for me! and fo went

:

away.

Well I thought I should have fwoon'd. Lord! faid I, what shall I do?

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

* Dr. Swift.

Then

Then my Lord call'd me: Harry*, faid my Lord, don't

cry;

I'll give you fomething towards thy lofs; and, fays my Lady, fo will I.

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

For that, he faid, (an't please your Excellencies,) I must

petition you.

The premiffes tenderly confider'd, I defire your Excellencies protection,

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

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

letter,

With an order for the chaplain aforefaid, 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,

Written at the Castle of Dublin, 1699.

MY Lord +, to find out who muft deal,

Delivers cards about,

But the firft knave does feldom fail

To find the Doctor out.

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

+ The earl of Berkeley.

But

But then his Honour cry'd, Gadzooks!

And feem'd to knit his brow:

For on a knave he never looks

But h' thinks upon Jack How *.

My Lady, though fhe is no player,
Some bungling partner takes,
And, wedg'd in corner of a chair,

Takes fnuff, and holds the stakes.

Dame Floyd + looks out in grave suspense
For pair-royals and fequents;
But, wifely cautious of her pence,
The caftle feldom fréquents.

Quoth Herries, fairly putting cafes,
I'd won it on my word,

If I had but a pair of aces,
And could pick up a third.

But Wefton has a new-caft gown
On Sundays to be fine in,
And, if the can but win a crown,
"Twill just new-dye the lining.

With thefe is Parfon Swift,

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

“ To deafen them with puns and rhyme.”

* Paymaster to the army.

+ See the verses on this lady, p. 38.

See the note, p. 28.

A BALLAD