Be these thy arts;[34] nor higher aim Than what befits a rural dame. "But Cloacina, goddess bright, Sleek----claims her as his right; And Smedley,[35] flower of all divines, Shall sing the Dean in Smedley's lines." [Footnote 1: The Lady of Sir Arthur Acheson.] [Footnote 2: A village near Sir Arthur Acheson's house where the author passed two summers.--_Dublin Edition_.] [Footnote 3: The names of two overseers.] [Footnote 4: My lady's footman.] [Footnote 4: Dr. Daniel, Dean of Down, who wrote several poems.] [Footnote 5: The author preached but once while he was there.] [Footnote 6: He sometimes used to direct the butler.] [Footnote 7: The butler.] [Footnote 8: He sometimes used to walk with the lady. See _ante_, p. 96.] [Footnote 9: The neighbouring ladies were no great understanders of raillery.] [Footnote 10: The clown that cut down the old thorn at Market-Hill.] [Footnote 11: See _ante_, "My Lady's Lamentation," p. 97.--_W. E. B._] [Footnote 12: Lady Acheson was daughter of Philip Savage, M. P. for Wexford, and Chancellor of the Exchequer in Ireland.--_W. E. B._] [Footnote 13: Understood here as _dainty, particular.--W. E. B._] [Footnote 14: A way of making butter for breakfast, by filling a bottle with cream, and shaking it till the butter comes.] [Footnote 15: It is a common saying, when the milk burns, that the devil or the bishop has set his foot in it.] [Footnote 16: See vol. i, p. 203.--_W. E. B._] [Footnote 27: Fragments of stone.] [Footnote 28: Virg., "Aeneidos," lib. vi.] [Footnote 29: "Cynthius aurem Vellit et admonuit."--VIRG., _Ecloga_ vi, 3.] [Footnote 30: "Post mediam noctem visus, cum somnia vera."--HOR., _Sat_, I, x, 33.] [Footnote 31: In the bottle to make butter.] [Footnote 32: The quantity of ale or beer brewed at one time.] [Footnote 33: Mrs. Dixon, the housekeeper.] [Footnote 34: "Hac tibi erunt artes."--VIRG., _Aen_., vi, 852.] [Footnote 35: A very stupid, insolent, factious, deformed, conceited person; a vile pretender to poetry, preferred by the Duke of Grafton for his wit.] TWELVE ARTICLES[1] I LEST it may more quarrels breed, I will never hear you read. II By disputing, I will never, To convince you once endeavour. III When a paradox you stick to, I will never contradict you. IV When I talk and you are heedless, I will show no anger needless. V When your speeches are absurd, I will ne'er object a word. VI When you furious argue wrong, I will grieve and hold my tongue. VII Not a jest or humorous story Will I ever tell before ye: To be chidden for explaining, When you quite mistake the meaning. VIII Never more will I suppose, You can taste my verse or prose. IX You no more at me shall fret, While I teach and you forget. X You shall never hear me thunder, When you blunder on, and blunder. XI Show your poverty of spirit, And in dress place all your merit; Give yourself ten thousand airs: That with me shall break no squares.[2]