And tell how little weight he sets And since he owns the King of Sweden Down the Black Sea and up the Streights, A Tory news-writer. 3 Mr. Clement Barry. MARY THE COOK-MAID's LETTER TO DR. SHERIDAN. 1723. WELL, if ever I saw such another man since my mother bound my head! You a gentleman! marry come up, I wonder where you were bred, I am sure such words does not become a man of your cloth; I would not give such language to a dog, faith and troth. Yes, you call'd my master a knave: fie! Mr. Sheridan: 'tis a shame For a parson, who should know better things, to come out with such a name. Knave in your teeth! Mr. Sheridan; 'tis both a shame and a sin: And the Dean, my master, is an honester 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 spindle-shank'd hoddy-doddy. And now, whereby I find you would fain make an excuse, Because my master one day, in anger, call'd you goose; Which, and I am sure I have been his servant four years since October, And he never call'd me worse than sweetheart, drunk or sober; Not that I know his Reverence was ever concern'd to my knowledge, Though you and your come-rogues keep him out so late in your wicked college. You say you will eat grass on his grave. A Christian eat grass! Whereby you now confess yourself to be a goose or an ass. But that's as much as to say, that my master should die before ye; Well, well, that's as God pleases; and I don't believe that's a true story; And so say I told you so, and you may go tell my master; what care I? [Mary. And I don't care who knows it; 'tis all one to Every body knows that I love to tell truth and shame the devil: I am but a poor servant; but I think gentlefolks should be civil. Besides, you found fault with our victuals one day that you was here ; [the year: I remember it was on a Tuesday, of all days in And Saunders, the man, says you are always jesting and mocking. 'Mary,' said he, (one day as I was mending my master's stocking) 'My master is so fond of that minister that keeps the school I thought my master a wise man, but that man makes him a fool.' 'Saunders, (said I) I would rather than a quart of ale He would come into our kitchen and I would pin a dishelort to his tail.' And now I must go and get Saunders to direct this letter, For I write but a sad scrawl; but my sister Marget she writes better. Well, but I must run and make the bed before my master comes from pray'rs ; And see, now, it strikes ten, and I hear him coming up stairs: Whereof I could say more to your verses, if I could write written hand; And so I remain in a civil way, your servant to command, MARY. CARBERIE RUPES, IN COMITATU CORGAGENSI, APUD HIBERNICOS ECCE ingens fragmen scopuli, quod vertice summo Hinc atque hinc a ponto ad pontum pervia Phœbo. Sed, cum sævit Hyems, et venti, carcere rupto, Immensos volvunt fluctus ad culmina montis, Non obsessæ arces, non fulmina vindice dextrâ Missa Jovis, quoties inimicas sævit in urbes, Exæquant sonitum undarum, veniente procellâ : Littora littoribus reboant; vicinia latè, Gens assueta mari, et pedibus percurrere rupes, CARBERY ROCKS, IN THE COUNTY OF CORKE, IRELAND.1 Lo! from the top of yonder cliff, that shrouds This translation of the preceding poem was made by Mr. W. Dunkin, M. A. for whom the Dean expressed a great regard on account of his ingenious performances, though unacquainted with him. |