When to the vault you walk in state, In quality of butler's [6] mate; You next to Dennis [7] bear the sway: To you we often trust the key: Nor can he judge with all his art So well, what bottle holds a quart: What pints may best for bottles pass Just to give every man his glass: When proper to produce the best; And what may serve a common guest. With Dennis you did ne'er combine, Not you, to steal your master's wine, Except a bottle now and then, To welcome brother serving-men; But that is with a good design, To drink Sir Arthur's health and mine, Your master's honour to maintain: And get the like returns again. Your usher's[8] 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.[9] Whene'er you joke, 'tis all a case Whether with Dermot, or his grace; With Teague O'Murphy, 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[10] take every joke. I now become your humble suitor To let me praise you as my tutor.[11] Poor I, a savage[12] bred and born, By you instructed every morn, Already have improved so well, That I have almost learnt to spell: The neighbours who come here to dine, Admire to hear me speak so fine. How enviously the ladies look, When they surprise me at my book! And sure as they're alive at night, As soon as gone will show their spight: Good lord! what can my lady mean, Conversing with that rusty Dean! She's grown so nice, and so penurious,[13] With Socrates and Epicurius! How could she sit the livelong day, Yet never ask us once to play? But I admire your patience most; That when I'm duller than a post, Nor can the plainest word pronounce, You neither fume, nor fret, nor flounce; Are so indulgent, and so mild, As if I were a darling child. So gentle is your whole proceeding, That I could spend my life in reading. You merit new employments daily: Our thatcher, ditcher, gardener, baily. And to a genius so extensive No work is grievous or offensive: Whether your fruitful fancy lies To make for pigs convenient styes; Or ponder long with anxious thought To banish rats that haunt our vault: Nor have you grumbled, reverend Dean, To keep our poultry sweet and clean; To sweep the mansion-house they dwell in, And cure the rank unsavoury smelling. Now enter as the dairy handmaid: Such charming butter [14] never man made. Let others with fanatic face Talk of their milk for babes of grace; From tubs their snuffling nonsense utter;