The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 1 by Jonathan Swift
page 70 of 517 (13%)
page 70 of 517 (13%)
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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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