Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/41

 "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. 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 ne'er want for 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 d—n 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 cassock, and smoothing your band,' (For the dean was so shabby, and look'd like a ninny, That the captain supposed he was curate to Jinny) "Whenever