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The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 1 by Jonathan Swift
page 70 of 517 (13%)
in my wages:
Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages.
Now, Mrs. Duke, you know, and everybody understands,
That though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands."
"The _devil_ take me!" said she, (blessing herself,) "if ever I saw't!"
So she roar'd like a bedlam, as thof I had call'd her all to naught.
So, you know, what could I say to her any more?
I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before.
Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man:
"No," said I, "'tis the same thing, the CHAPLAIN[11] will be here anon."
So the Chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart,
Because 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_" said I, "can you cast a _nativity_, when a body's plunder'd?"
(Now you must know, he hates to be called _Parson_, like the _devil!_)
"Truly," says he, "Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil;
If your money be gone, as a learned _Divine_ says,[12] d'ye see,
You are no _text_ for my handling; so take that from me:
I was never taken for a _Conjurer_ before, I'd have you to know."
"Lord!" said I, "don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so;
You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a Parson's wife;
I never took one in _your coat_ for a conjurer in all my life."
With that he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say,
"Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away.
Well: I thought I should have swoon'd. "Lord!" said I, "what shall I do?
I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!"
Then my lord call'd me: "Harry,"[13] said my lord, "don't cry;
I'll give you something toward thy loss." "And," says my lady, "so will
I."
Oh! but, said I, what if, after all, the Chaplain won't come to?
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