And rather than come in the same pair of sheets 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. 'Noble captain, your servant,'—' Sir Arthur, your slave; You honor me much '— The honor is mine.' "'T was a sad rainy night'—' But the morning is fine.' Pray how does my lady?— My wife's at your service.' 'I think I have seen her picture by Jervas? 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." 66 Pray, madam, be quiet; what was it I said? With the fine flaming sword that he holds in his hand; At last comes the troop, by the word of command, Drawn up in the court; when the captain cries, STAND! 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 favor, FOR THE RIGHT HOLDS THE SWORD, AND THE LEFT HOLDS THE BRIDLE); 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 has spilt!) 'Lord, madam! your ladyship sure is in jest: "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 first; The parsons for envy are ready to burst. 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. I wish she would lend you her pretty white hand In mending your cassock, and smoothing your band A hundred to one but it covers a clown. A scholard, when just from his college broke loose, Your NOVEDS, and BLUTURCKS, and OMURs, and stuff,† "Never since I was born did I hear so much wit, Till she heard the Dean call, "Will your ladyship walk?" * Dr. Jinny, a clergyman in the neighborhood. † Ovids, Plutarchs, and Homers. 166 Hamilton's Bawn" was a 1 The Grand Question Debated. large old house belonging to Sir Arthur Acheson, Bart., ancestor of the Earls of Gosford. His lady was Anne Savage, daughter of an Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer. A merry war, perhaps not always pleasant, was in the habit of passing between her and Swift, in which he bantered her thinness, and Sir Arthur used to take his part. She is the heroine of the witty but coarse verses, beginning "Sure never did man see To punish my sins Sir Arthur begins, And gives me a wipe The Dean never stops, When he opens his chops. With rebus and pun." 2 G― d―n me, they bid us reform and repent, &c.-I do not apologize to the reader for repeating these oaths, because Swift's object in recording them was intended for anything but approbation of swearing-a practice which, though accused of having been a swearer himself, he held in special contempt, and officers of the army (it must be added) along with it. He looked upon them as a set of ignorant coxcombs; and, doubtless, too many such persons are to be found mixed with their betters in the service, especially in the regiments raised in the provinces. The reader would be surprised if he knew how much ignorance of common writing and reading was betrayed in communications of country officers with head-quarters. Fielding seems to have had his eye on this passage when he introduced his Ensign Northerton in Tom Jones. It is one of the happiest in Swift's verses; exquisite for its ease, its straightfor wardness, its humor, its succession of pictures, its maid-servant tone of mind. MARY THE COOK-MAID'S LETTER TO DR. SHERIDAN., 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'm sure such words do 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 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 parsonable 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 a goose; Which, and I am sure I have been his servant four years since October, Not that I know his reverence was ever concern'd to my knowledge, 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? And I don't care who knows it; 'tis all one to Mary; Every one 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: I remember it was on a Tuesday of all days in the year. And Saunders the man says you are always jesting and mocking: Mary, said he (one day as I was mending my master's stocking), I thought my master a wise man, but that man mukes 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 dish-clout 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.4 Well, but I must run and make the bed, before my master comes from prayers; 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. |