I'm grown a mere mopus; no company comes
But a rabble of tenants and rusty dull rums*.
With parsons what lady can keep herself clean?
I'm all over-daub'd when I sit by the Dean.
But if you will give us a Barrack, my dear!
The Captain, I'm sure, will always come here:
I then shall not value his Deanship a straw,
For the Captain, I warrant, will keep him in awe;
Or should he pretend to be brisk and alert,
Will tell him that chaplains should not be so pert;
That men of his coat should be minding their pray'rs,
And not among ladies to give themselves airs.'
Thus argued my Lady, but argued in vain;
The Knight his opinion resolv'd to maintain.
But Hannaht, who listen'd to all that was past,
And could not endure so vulgar a taste,
As soon as her Ladyship call'd to be dress'd,
Cried, 'Madam, why, surely my master's possess'd:
Sir Arthur the Malster! how fine it will sound!
I'd rather the Bawn were sunk under ground.
But, Madam, I guess'd there would never come good,
When I saw him so often with Darby and Wood‡.
And now my dream's out; for I was a-dream'd
That I saw a huge rat: O dear! how I scream'd!
And after, methought, I had lost my new shoes;
And Molly she said I should hear some ill news.
'Dear Madam! had you but the spirit to tease, You might have a Barrack whenever you please: And, Madam, I always believ'd you so stout, That for twenty denials you would not give out. If I had a husband like him, I purtest, Till he gave me my will I would give him no rest; And rather than come in the same pair of sheets With such a cross man, I would lie in the streets. But, Madam, I beg you contrive and invent, And worry him out till he gives his consent.
* A cant word in Ireland for a poor country clergyman. + My Lady's waiting woman.
Two of Sir Arthur's managers.
Dear Madam! whene'er of a Barrack I think, An I were to be hang'd I can't sleep a wink; For if a new crotchet comes into my brain, I can't get it out, though I'd never so fain. I fancy already a Barrack contriv'd At Hamilton's Bawn, and the troop is arriv'd; Of this, to be sure, Sir Arthur has warning, And waits on the Captain betimes the next morning.
Now see when they meet how their honours
behave:
Noble Captain! your servant-Sir Arthur! your slave,
You honour me much-The honour is mine-
'Twas a sad rainy night-but the morning is fine-
Pray how does my Lady--My wife's at your ser-
I think I have seen her picture by Jarvis-Good morrow, good Captain!--I'll wait on you down-
You sha'n't stir a foot-You'll think me a clown-
For all the world, Captain, not half an inch farther-
You must be obey'd-Your servant, Sir Arthur;
My humble respects to my Lady unknown-
I hope you will use my house as your own.'
'Go bring me my smock, and leave off your prate; Thou hast certainly gotten a cup in thy pate.' 'Pray, Madam, be quiet; what was it I said?You had like to have put it quite out of my head.
'Next day, to be sure, the Captain will come At the head of his troop, with trumpet and drum. Now, Madam, observe how he marches in state; The man with the kettledrum enters the gate: Dub, dub, adub, dub. The trumpeters follow; Tantara, tantara; while all the boys halloo. See now comes the Captain, all daub'd with gold lace: O law! the sweet gentleman! look in his face; And see how he rides like a lord of the land, With the fine flaming sword that he holds in his hand; And his horse, the dear creter! it prances and rears, With ribands in knots at its tail and its ears.
At last comes the troop, by the word of command Drawn up in our court; when the Captain cries,
Your Ladyship lifts up the sash to be seen, (For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen) The Captain, to show he is proud of the favour, Looks up to your window, and cocks up his beaver; (His beaver is cock'd; pray, Madam, mark that, For a captain of horse never takes off his hat, Because he has never a hand that is idle,
For the right holds the sword, and the left holds
Then flourishes thrice his sword in the air,
As a compliment due to a lady so fair:
(How I tremble to think of the blood it hath spilt!)
Then he lowers down the point, and kisses the hilt.
Your Ladyship smiles, and thus you begin;
Pray, Captain, be pleas'd to alight and walk in.
The Captain salutes you with congee profound,
And your Ladyship curtsies half-way to the ground.
'Kit, run to your master, and bid him come to us;
I'm sure he'll be proud of the honour you do us:
And, Captain, you'll do us the favour to stay,
And take a short dinner here with us to-day:
You're heartily welcome; but as for good cheer,
You come in the very worst time of the year:
If I had expected so worthy a guest-
Lord! Madam! your Ladyship sure is in jest;
You banter me, Madam: the kingdom must grant-
You, officers, captains, are so complaisant.'
'Hist, Hussy! I think I hear somebody coming-' 'No, Madam; 'tis only Sir Arthur a-humming: To shorten my tale, (for I hate a long story) The Captain at dinner appears in his glory; The Dean and the Doctor have humbled their pride, For the Captain's entreated to sit by your side; And, because he's their betters, you carve for him
The parsons for envy are ready to burst:
* Doctor Jenny, a clergyman in the neighbourhood.
The servants, amaz'd, are scarce ever able
To keep off their eyes as they wait at the table;
And Molly and I have thrust in our nose
To peep at the Captain in all his fine clo'es.
Dear Madam! be sure he's a fine spoken man;
Do but hear on the clergy how glib his tongue ran:
And, Madam, (says he,) if such dinners you give,
You'll never want parsons as long as you live;
I ne'er knew a parson without a good nose,
But the devil's as welcome wherever he goes.
G-d-me, they bid us reform and repent,
But, z-s, by their looks they never keep Lent.
Mister Curate, for all your grave looks, I'm afraid
You cast a sheep's eye on her Ladyship's maid;
I wish she would lend you her pretty white hand
In mending your cassoc and smoothing your band:
(For the Dean was so shabby, and look'd like a ninny,
That the Captain suppos'd he was curate to Jenny)
Whenever you see a cassoc and gown,
A hundred to one but it covers a clown.
Observe how a parson comes into a room,
G-d-me, he hobbles as bad as my groom.
A scholard, when just from his college broke loose,
Can hardly tell how to cry Bo to a goose.
Your Noveds, and Blutarks, and Omurs*, and stuff,
By G- they don't signify this pinch of snuff.
To give a young gentleman right education,
The army's the only good school in the nation.
My schoolmaster call'd me a dunce and a fool,
But at cuffs I was always the cock of the school.
I never could take to my book for the blood o'me,
And the puppy confess'd he expected no good o'me.
He caught me one morning coquetting his wife,
But he maul'd me, I ne'er was so maul'd in my life;
So I took to the road, and, what's very odd,
The first man I robb'd was a parson, by G-.
Now, Madam, you'll think it a strange thing to say,
But the sight of a book makes me sick to this day.
* Ovids, Plutarchs, Homers. See Essay on Modern Edu-
'Never since I was born did I hear so much wit, And, Madam, I laugh'd till I thought I should split: So then you look'd scornful, and snift at the Dean, As who should say, Now, am I Skinny and Lean*? But he durst not so much as once open his lips, And the Doctor was plaguily down in the hips.' Thus merciless Hannah ran on in her talk, Till she heard the Dean call, Will your Ladyship
Her Ladyship answers, 'I'm just coming down:" Then turning to Hannah, and forcing a frown, Although it was plain in her heart she was glad, Cried, 'Hussey! why, sure the wench is gone mad: How could these chimeras get into your brains ?Come hither, and take this old gown for your pains. But the Dean, if this secret should come to his ears, Will never have done with his gibes and his jeers: For your life, not a word of the matter, I charge ye. Give me but a Barrack, a fig for the clergy.'
THE shepherds and the nymphs were seen
Pleading before the Cyprian Queen.
The counsel for the fair began,
Accusing the false creature Man :
The brief with weighty crimes was charg'd,
On which the pleader much enlarg'd;
'That Cupid now has lost his art,
Or blunts the point of every dart ;-
His altar now no longer smokes,
His mother's aid no youth invokes;
This tempts Freethinkers to refine,
And bring in doubt their powers divine:
Now love has dwindled to intrigue,
And marriage grown a money-league.
* Nicknames for my Lady.
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