He caught me one morning coquetting his wife, But he maul'd me, I ne'er was so maul'd in my life: [10] So I took to the road, and, what's very odd, The first man I robb'd was a parson, by G--. Now, madam, you'll think it a strange thing to say, But the sight of a book makes me sick to this day. "Never since I was born did I hear so much wit, And, madam, I laugh'd till I thought I should split. So then you look'd scornful, and snift at the Dean, As who should say, 'Now, am I skinny[11] and lean?' But he durst not so much as once open his lips, And the doctor was plaguily down in the hips." Thus merciless Hannah ran on in her talk, Till she heard the Dean call, "Will your ladyship walk?" Her ladyship answers, "I'm just coming down:" Then, turning to Hannah, and forcing a frown, Although it was plain in her heart she was glad, Cried, "Hussey, why sure the wench is gone mad! How could these chimeras get into your brains!-- Come hither and take this old gown for your pains. But the Dean, if this secret should come to his ears, Will never have done with his gibes and his jeers: For your life, not a word of the matter I charge ye: Give me but a barrack, a fig for the clergy." [Footnote 1: A bawn was a place near the house, enclosed with mud or stone walls, to keep the cattle from being stolen in the night, now little used.--_Dublin Edition_.] [Footnote 2: Sir Arthur Acheson, at whose seat this was written.] [Footnote 3: John, Lord Carteret, then Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, since Earl of Granville, in right of his mother.] [Footnote 4: The army in Ireland was lodged in strong buildings, called barracks. See "Verses on his own Death," and notes, vol. i, 247.--_W. E. B._] [Footnote 5: A cant-word in Ireland for a poor country clergyman.] [Footnote 6: My lady's waiting-woman.] [Footnote 7: Two of Sir Arthur's managers.] [Footnote 8: Dr. Jinny, a clergyman in the neighbourhood.] [Footnote 9: Ovids, Plutarchs, Homers.] [Footnote 10: These four lines were added by Swift in his own copy of the Miscellanies, edit. 1732.--_W. E. B._] [Footnote 11: Nicknames for my lady, see _ante_, pp. 94, 95.--_W. E. B._] DRAPIER'S-HILL.[1] 1730 We give the world to understand, Our thriving Dean has purchased land; A purchase which will bring him clear Above his rent four pounds a-year; Provided to improve the ground, He will but add two hundred pound; And from his endless hoarded store, To build a house, five hundred more. Sir Arthur, too, shall have his will, And call the mansion Drapier's-Hill; That, when a nation, long enslaved, Forgets by whom it once was saved; When none the Drapier's praise shall sing, His signs aloft no longer swing, His medals and his prints forgotten, And all his handkerchiefs [2] are rotten, His famous letters made waste paper, This hill may keep the name of Drapier; In spite of envy, flourish still, And Drapier's vie with Cooper's-Hill.