Or never more get invitation. Whoe'er comes in, whoe'er goes out, Your game is sure for ball or rout. To fortune straight you'll make your way, If once your Lady takes to play; It pays beyond all formal dinners, Only pay homage to the winners, Which I'll be bound you always do, At least I would if I were you. Now if I've told you e'er a thumper, Fine me, when next we meet, a bumper: Yes, give us truth without a sting, A bottle of the old 'BEE'S WING.' [Illustration: THE COOK.] THE COOK. ALTHOUGH French Cooks be much too common,-- I speak now to an English _woman_,-- _You_ would not wish to learn from books, How you might _stock_ the pastry-cooks, And make my Lord pay carriage hence, For gimcracks made at his expense! Although, quite fearless of detection, Some have 'arrived' at this perfection; And yet, I fear, I must conclude There's nothing of the kind in UDE, And therefore you must farther look, If wanting a "_Complete_ French Cook!" Be with the Butler always 'friends,' And so make sure of both your 'ends.' When all the rest are safe in bed, As silent as if all were dead, You find the Butler dainty prog, Repaid as sure with luscious grog; But still, if you outrun your tether, 'Tis odds you 'bundle' both together. Avoid it,--treat him like a brother, For you may 'never like another.' _You_ can make friends with every one, So mind how my instructions run: My lessons suit both town and country, If you've the requisite effrontery. Be sure to send up nothing 'cold,' Unless particularly 'told;' Get rid of it to some dear crony, No matter whether fowl or coney. If miss'd, then lay it to the _rats_, Strange greyhounds or domestic cats: (Poor things! 'tis hard that you should scout 'em,) But harder still to do without 'em. Then talk of 'magpies' for blue moons, When 'maids' run short of forks and spoons: I must confess how I do glory, In that most true, most 'moving story.' If there's no paper for your use To light a fire or singe a goose, Swear by the poker, tongs, and shovel, You'll tear some from the 'last new Novel.' If forc'd to own that you're the thief, Say you'll "turn over a new leaf:" Nay, should you rob (no new proceeding) The very work your Master's reading, Say that 'there's more besides the Cook,' Should take a "leaf from Master's book." If you should serve a family So rich, they don't live crammily, Broils you may have--nay, constant broiling, Yet free from common roasting, boiling: But stews and hashes bring much bother,-- Encourage neither one nor t'other; Good Cooks still hate all diddle-daddle, Constant, eternal fiddle-faddle. But snipes and larks, that come as presents (Instead of partridges and pheasants)