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._]

[Footnote 10: A usual saying of hers.--_Swift_.]

[Footnote 11: Swift.]

[Footnote 12: Dr. Bolton, one of the chaplains.--_Faulkner_.]

[Footnote 13: A cant word of Lord and Lady Berkeley to Mrs. Harris.]

[Footnote 14: Swift elsewhere terms his own calling a _trade_. See his
letter to Pope, 29th Sept., 1725, cited in Introduction to Gulliver,
"Prose Works," vol. viii, p. xxv.--_W. E. B_.]

A BALLAD ON THE GAME OF TRAFFIC

WRITTEN AT THE CASTLE OF DUBLIN, 1699

My Lord,[1] to find out who must deal,
Delivers cards about,
But the first knave does seldom fail
To find the doctor out.

But then his honour cried, Gadzooks!
And seem'd to knit his brow:
For on a knave he never looks
But he thinks upon Jack How.[2]

My lady, though she is no player,
Some bungling partner takes,
And, wedged in corner of a chair,
Takes snuff, and holds the stakes.

Dame Floyd[3] looks out in grave suspense
For pair royals and sequents;
But, wisely cautious of her pence,
The castle seldom frequents.

Quoth Herries,[4] fairly putting cases,
I'd won it, on my word,
If I had but a pair of aces,
And could pick up a third.

But Weston has a new-cast gown