I feel I cannot pay too high
For care and for fidelity:
Let me see that—my heart engages
To give you something more than wages
-Your duties will be found to vary,
As Steward, Nurse, and Secretary :
Thus you will soon my wants attend
Less as a servant than a friend.
I little know
You may suppose
Of what is going on below;
My leading wishes are, to prove
That I am duly serv'd above,
And you, as may be daily seen,
Must play the active game between."
More pass'd, that needs not our repeating, About the mystery of eating,
Which did these sage instructions close,
When good Sir Jeff'ry 'gan to doze :
And, soon as he more soundly slept,
Downstairs Ezekiel cautious crept,
(For by that name he now is known,
As fate has chang'd it for his own,)
To let th' expecting folk below
The nature of his office know.
To ev'ry man he gave his fist,—
The females, too, he warmly kiss'd;
Then to th' assembled kitchen spoke,
But not as if he thought a joke,
Or in a hypocritic glee,
But with a smiling gravity.
"Sir Jeff'ry's household int'rests are Committed to my faithful care;
And I must hope we all
To serve him with fidelity."
To this they all, in order due,
Gave their assent-and bound it too
By words which each one, in their station, Gave as a solemn declaration.
The cook and housekeeper began,
And thus her red rag glibly ran;
While, from her knee unto her chin,
She wav'd the floured rolling pin.
"O, may the kettle never boil,
May butter always turn to oil,
And may the jack, the chimney's boast,
From time to time despoil the roast!
May soot fall on the ready stew,
And the cat lick the rich ragout!
May China dish with pie to bake,
While I am speaking, may it crack,
If I e'er took the offer'd bribe
From any of the market tribe,
Or e'er disgrac'd the name of cook
To falsify the kitchen book;
Nay, if I have touch'd or taken,
For my own use, one slice of bacon;
If ever I were such a sinner,
May I now spoil Sir Jeff'ry's dinner;
And should I suffer such disgrace,
I instantly should lose my place!"
"May I be hang'd by some bell rope If e'er I cribb'd an ounce of soap, Or pocketed wax-candles' ends To deal out slily to my friends ; Or, in the linen's gen'ral muster, Made free with towel or with duster;
Or e'er did bribes from turners take,
The mops to spoil, or brooms to break;
Or in the bed-rooms made a stir
To call in the upholsterer,
As house-maids with dishonest view,
Are, as I've heard, so apt to do!
Or ever gave, in washing tub,
The linen a hard, tearing rub,
That might encrease the rags—a fee
Which household custom gives to me!
-That I speak truth, I here declare,
And Molly, too, the same will swear;
Who striking hard upon the dresser,
Hop'd Heaven itself would never bless her,
If, from whate'er she saw or knew
What had been promie'd was not true."
"Though I am rather in a flutter,
I vow I never turn'd the butter
Into the pot that might encrease
The perquisite of daily grease;
Nor sought for fat, no, not a bit,
But what dripp'd kindly from the spit,
Or from the plates and dishes came,
When I had daily clean'd the same;
Nor ever let a candle fall
To fill a gaping interval!
Nor did I e'er a doit receive
Which coal-merchants may sometimes give
To those who watch the kitchen-grate,
And keep it in a flaming state;
Who may the poker wield at will
And seldom leave its poking still,
Nor e'er the kitchen blaze controul
By being niggard of the coal :
Charges that are so often laid
To the hard-working, kitchen maid!"
"O may I never, never be A servant out of livery,
Which is th' ambitious, hop'd-for lot Of all who wear the shoulder knot! may I never quit my place
Behind the chair, nor shew my face,
The sideboard's glitt'ring show to grace,
If, when my master ceas'd to dine,
I ever stole a glass of wine!
O, may my food be pitch and mustard,
If ever I took tart or custard,
If e'er I did my finger dip
In some nice sauce and rub my lip!
If turnpike tolls I e'er enlarg'd,-
May I this moment be discharg'd!"
"May I be flogg'd with thorny briars
If e'er I heard such cursed liars,
And should I venture now to say
I ne'er purloin'd or corn or hay,
I should be liar big as they!
Nay, 'tis such folly to be lying,
And all these trifling tricks denying,
Which, ere a fortnight's past and over,
Mr. Ezekiel must discover.
Sir Jeff'ry's keen look never sees
What are but clever servants' fees,
And he would feel it to his sorrow,
Were he to change us all to-morrow;
For the new steward soon will see
No master's better serv'd than he.
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