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So next Morning we told Whittle, and he fell a


Then my Dame Wadgar came, and fhe, you know, is thick of Hearing;

Dame, faid I, as loud as I could bawl, do you know what a Lofs I have had?

Nay, faid fhe, my Lord * Collway's Folks are all very fad,

For my Lord f Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail

Pugh! faid I, but that's not the Business that fail.

Says Cary, fays he, I have been a Servant this
Five and Twenty Years, come Spring,
And in all the Places I liv'd,I never heard of fuch

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a Thing.

Yes, fays the Steward, I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's,

Such a Thing as this happen'd, juft about the time of Goosberries.

So I went to the Party fufpected, and I found her full of Grief;



(Now you must know, of all Things in the World, I hate a Thief.) However, I was refolv'd to bring the Difcourfe

flily about:

Mrs. Dukes, faid 1, here's an ugly Accident has happen'd out;

'Tis not that I value the Money three kips of a Loufe


But the Thing that I ftand upon, is the Credit of the Houfe

'Tis true, Seven Pounds, four Shillings, and fix Pence makes a great Hole in my Wages, Befides, as they fay, Service is no Inheritance in the fe Ages.


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Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and every Body



That tho' 'tis hard to judge, yet Money can't go without Hands.

The Devil take me, faid fhe (bleffing her felf) if I ever faw't!



So fhe roar'd like a Bedlam, as tho' I had call'd her all to naught;


So you know, what could I fay to her any



I e'en left her, and came away, as o was before.


Well: But then they would have had me gone to the Cunning Man;




No, faid I, 'tis the fame Thing, the Chaplain, will be here anon. So the Chaplain came in; now the Servants fay, he is my Sweet-heart, 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,

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Parfon, faid I, can you caft a Nativity, when a Body's plunder'd? (Now you must know, he hates to be call'd Parfon, like the Devil.) basyo A Truly, fays he, Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil:


wife as I

If your Money be gone, as a Learned Divine fays, d'ye lee,

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You are no Text for my Handling, fo take that from me :

I was never taken for a Conjurer before, I'd have you to know.

Lord, faid I, don't be angry, I am fure, I never thought you so ;


You know, I honour the Cloth, I defign to be a Parfon's Wife.

I never took one in Your Coat for a Conjurer Lin all my Life.

With that, he twifted his Girdle at me like a Rope, as who fhould fay,


Now you may go hang your felf for me, and fo

went away.

Well, I thought, I fhould have fwoon'd; Lord, faid I, what fhall I do?

I have loft my Money, and fhall lofe my Trie

Love too.

Then my Lord call'd me; Harry, faid my Lord,



don't cry, I'll give fomething towards thy Lofs; and fays my Lady, fo will I.

Oh but, faid I, what if after all my Chaplain won't come to?


For that, he faid (an't please your Excellencies) I muft Petition You.


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The Premiffes tenderly confider'd, I defire
Excellencies Protection, ass 71 i

And that I may have a fhare in next Sunday's
Dad Br



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And over and above, that I may have your Excellencies Letter, 1.8.74

With an Order_for_the Chaplain aforefaid; or inftead of him, a Better:



And then your poor Petitioner, both Night and



Or the Chaplain (for 'tis his Trade) as in Duty bound, hall ever Pray




Lady BB-finding in the Author's Room Some Ver fes unfinished, under-writ a Stanza of her own, with Raillery upon him, which gave Occafion to this Ballad.

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Auguft, 1702.

To the Tune of the Cutpurfe.


NCE on a time, as old Stories rehearse,
A Friar would needs fhew his Talent

in Latin;


But was forely put to't in the midst of a Merle, Because he could find no word to come pat in.

Then all the Place

He left a void Space,

And fo went to Bed in a defperate Cafe.

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When behold the next Morning, a wonderful Riddle,

He found it was ftrangely fill'd in the Middle. Cho. Let Cenfuring Criticks then think what they lift on't,

Who would not write Verfes with such an Affiant.


This put me the Friar into an Amazement,
For he wifely confider'd it must be a Spirit,
That came through the Key-Hole, or in at the


And it needs must be one that could both
Read and Write:

Yet he did not know

If it were Friend or Foe,

Or, whether it came from Above or Below. Howe'er it was civil in Angel or Elf, For he ne'er could have fill'd it fo well of himself. Cho. Let Cenfuring, &c.


Even fo Mafter Doctor had puzzled his Brains In making a Ballad, but was at a Stand, He had mixt little Wit with a great deal of


When he found a new Help from Invifible

Then good Dr. S

Pay Thanks for the Gift,

For you freely muft own you were at a dead Lift;

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And tho' fome malicious young Spirit did do't, You may know by the Hand, it had no Cloven Foot.

Cho. Let Cenfuring Criticks then think what they lift



N! Who would not write Vorfes with fuch an Af


V- 's

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