A PASTORAL DIALOGUE between RICHMOND-LODGE and MARBLE-HILL *.

Written June 1727, just after the news of the late King's death, to which time this note mult alfo be referred.

The

Af

RICHMOND-LODGE is a house with a small park belonging to the crown. It was ufually granted by the crown for a lease of years. Duke of Ormond † was the last who had it. ter his exile, it was given to the Prince of Wales by the King. The Prince and Princess usually paffed their fummer there. It is within a mile of Richmond,

MRBLE-HILL is a houfe built by Mrs Howard, then of the bedchamber, now Countefs of Suffolk, and Groom of the Stole to the Queen. It is on the Middlesex fide near Twickenham, where Mr. Pope lives, and about two miles from Richmond-Lodge.

In

This piece contains fome of the best and finest portraits of Dr. Swift, in three or four different attitudes, that ever were drawn. it we are alfo told, in his own ludicrous way, that he generally fpunged a breakfiftence a week from the Princess of Wales, [the late Queen Caroline]; and, I believe, we may take his own word for it, that he frequently ufed

"To cry the bre ́d was stale, and mutter
"Complaints against the royal butter."

Swift.

James Butler Duke of Ormond, fucceeded John Duke of Marlborough as Captain General in Queen Anne's reign. He fled from England, foon after the Queen's death in 1714; and retired to Avignon in France, where he died without iffue in 1745. His corple was brought to England, and interred in Weftiniafter abbey, May 22. 1746.

Mr.

Mr. Pope was the contriver of the gardens, Lord Herbert the architect, and the Dean of St. Patrick's chief butler, and keeper of the icehoufe. Upon King George's death, thefe two houfes met, and had the following dialogue.

+TN fpite of Pope, in spite of Gay, And all that he or they can fay,

Sing on I muft, and fing I will

Of Richmond-Lodge and Marble-Hill.

Laft Friday night, as neighbours use,

This couple met to talk of news;

For by old proverbs it appears,

That walls have tongues, and hedges ears.

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Marble-H. Quoth Marble-Hill, right well I ween, Your mistress now is grown a queen :

You'll find it foon by woful proof;

ΙΟ

She'll come no more beneath your roof.

Richmond-L. The kingly prophet well evinces,

That we fhould put no truft in princes.
My royal mafter promis'd me
To raife me to a high degree;

But now he's grown a king, God wot,
I fear I fhall be foon forgot.

You fee, when folks have got their ends,
How quickly they neglect their friends;
Yet I may fay, 'twixt me and you,
Pray God they now may find as true.

Marble-H. My houfe was built but for a fhow,

My lady's empty pockets know;

And now the will not have a fhilling

To raise the stairs, or build the ceiling;

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This poem was car ied to court, and read to the king and queen.

VOL. VIII.

K

For

or all the courtly Madams round
Now pay four fhillings in the pound;
"Tis come to what I always thought:
My dame is hardly worth a groat.
Had you and I been courtiers born,
We fhould not thus have lain forlorn :
For those we dex'trous courtiers call,
Can rife upon their master's fall.
But we unlucky and unwife

Muft fall, because our mafters rife.

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Richmond-L. My mafter fcarce a fortnight fince

Was grown as wealthy as a prince;

But now it will be no fuch thing,

For he'll be poor as any king:

But like a king to run in debt.

And by his crown will nothing get;

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Shall keep the key of my no-wine;

Marble-H. No more the Dean, that grave divine,

My icehouse rob, as heretofore,
And fteal my artichoaks no more;
Poor Patty Blount no more be seen
Bedraggled in my walks fo green :
Plump Johnny Gay will now elope;
And here no more will dangle Pope.

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Richmond-L. Here wont the Dean, when he's to

feek,

To fpunge a breakfast once a-week ;
To cry the bread was ftale, and mutter
Complaints against the royal butter.
But now I fear it will be faid,
No butter sticks upon his bread.
We foon fhall find him full of spleen,
For want of tattling to the Queen;
Stunning her royal ears with talking;
His Rev'rence and her Highnefs walking:

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Whilft Lady Charlotte *, like a ftroller,
Sits mounted on the garden-roller.
A goodly fight to fee her ride

With ancient Mirmont † at her fide.
In velvet cap his head lies warm ;

His hat for how beneath his arm.

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Marble-H. Some South-fea broker from the city Will purchase me, the more's the pity; Lay all my fine plantations wafte

To fit them to his vulgar tafte;

Change'd for the worfe in ev'ry part,

My mafter Pope will break his heart.

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Richmond-L. In my own Thames may. I be drownded,

If e'er I ftoop beneath a crown'd head; ·
Except her Majefty prevails

To place me with the prince of Wales :
And then I fhall be free from tears,
For he'll be prince thefe fifty years.
I then will turn a courtier too.
And ferve the times, as others do.

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80.

Plain loyalty, not built on hope,

I leave to your contriver, Pope;

None loves his king and country better,

Yet none was ever lefs their debtor.

Marble-H. Then let him come and take a nap;

In fummer on my verdant lap:

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Prefer our villa's, where the Thames is,

To Kenfington, or hot St. James's;

Nor fhall I dull in filence fit;

For 'tis to me he owes his wit:
My groves, my echoes, and my birds,
Have taught him his poetic words.

*Lady Charlotte de Rouffy, a French lady.
+ Marquis de Mirmont, a Frenchman of quality

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We gardens, and you wilderneffes,

Affift all poets in diftreffes.
Him twice a-week I here expect,
To rattle Moody * for neglect;

An idle rogue, who spends his quartridge
In tippling at the Dog and Partridge;
And I can hardly get him down
'Three times a-week to brush my gown.

Richmond-L. I pity you, dear Marble-Hill; But hope to fee you flourish ftill.

All happiness,and fo adieu.

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Marble-H. Kind Richmond-Lodge, the fame to

"TIS ftrange, what diff'rent thoughts inspire
In men, peffeffion and defire!
Think what they with fo great a bleffing;
So disappointed when poffeffing!

A moralift profoundly fage,

I know not in what book or page,
Or whether o'er a pot of ale,
Related thus the following tale.

Poffeffion, and Defire his brother, But ftill at variance with each other,

*The gardener.

Were