Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/53

Rh Your usher's post must next be handled: How blest am I by such a man led! Under whose wise and careful guardship I now despise fatigue and hardship: Familiar grown to dirt and wet, Though draggled round, I scorn to fret: From you my chamber damsels learn My broken hose to patch and darn. Now as a jester I accost you; Which never yet one friend has lost you. You judge so nicely to a hair, How far to go, and when to spare; By long experience grown so wise, Of every taste to know the size; There 's none so ignorant or weak To take offence at what you speak. Whene'er you joke, 'tis all a case Whether with Dermot, or his grace; With Teague O'Murphey, or an earl; A duchess, or a kitchen girl. With such dexterity you fit Their several talents with your wit, That Moll the chambermaid can smoke, And Gahagan take every joke. I now become your humble suitor To let me praise you as my tutor. Poor I, a savage bred and born, By you instructed every morn. Already have improv'd so well, That I have almost learnt to spell: The neighbours who come here to dine, Admire to hear me speak so fine. How