'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence makes a great hole 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? For that, he said (an't please your Excellencies), I must petition you. The premisses tenderly consider'd, I desire your Excellencies' protection, And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection; And, over and above, that I may have your Excellencies' letter, With an order for the Chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better: And then your poor petitioner, both night and day, Or the Chaplain (for 'tis his _trade_,[14]) as in duty bound, shall ever _pray_. [Footnote 1: The Earl of Berkeley and the Earl of Galway.] [Footnote 2: Lady Betty Berkeley, afterwards Germaine.] [Footnote 3: Wife to one of the footmen.] [Footnote 4: The Earl of Berkeley's valet.] [Footnote 5: The old deaf housekeeper.] [Footnote 6: Galway.] [Footnote 7: The Earl of Drogheda, who, with the primate, was to succeed the two earls, then lords justices of Ireland.] [Footnote 8: Clerk of the kitchen.] [Footnote 9: Ferris; whom the poet terms in his Journal to Stella, 21st Dec., 1710, a "beast," and a "Scoundrel dog." See "Prose Works," ii, p. 79--_W. E. B._]