James Brydges[1]and the Dean had long been friends;
James is beduked; of course their friendship ends: 
But sure the Dean deserves a sharp rebuke,
For knowing James, to boast he knows the duke. 
Yet, since just Heaven the duke’s ambition mocks,
Since all he got by fraud is lost by stocks,[2]
His wings are clipp’d:  he tries no more in vain
With bands of fiddlers to extend his train. 
Since he no more can build, and plant, and revel,
The duke and dean seem near upon a level. 
O! wert thou not a duke, my good Duke Humphry,
From bailiffs claws thou scarce couldst keep thy bum free. 
A duke to know a dean! go, smooth thy crown: 
Thy brother[3](far thy better) wore a gown. 
Well, but a duke thou art; so please the king: 
O! would his majesty but add a string!

[Footnote 1:  James Brydges, who was created Duke of Chandos in 1719, and built the magnificent house at Canons near Edgware, celebrated by Pope in his “Moral Essays,” Epistles iii and iv.  For a description of the building, see De Foe’s “Tour through Great Britain,” cited in Carruthers’ edition of Pope, vol. i, p. 482.  At the sale of the house by the second Duke in 1747, Lord Chesterfield purchased the hall pillars for the house he was then building in May Fair, where they still adorn the entrance hall of Chesterfield House.  He used to call them his Canonical pillars.—­W.  E. B.]

[Footnote 2:  In allusion to the Duke’s difficulties caused by the failure of his speculative investments.—­W.  E. B.]

[Footnote 3:  The Hon. Henry Brydges, Archdeacon of Rochester.—­N.]

WRITTEN BY DR. SWIFT ON HIS OWN DEAFNESS, IN SEPTEMBER, 1734

Vertiginosus, inops, surdus, male gratus amicis;
Non campana sonans, tonitru non ab Jove missum,
Quod mage mirandum, saltem si credere fas est,
Non clamosa meas mulier jam percutit aures.

THE DEAN’S COMPLAINT, TRANSLATED AND ANSWERED

DOCTOR.  Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone. 
ANSWER.  Except the first, the fault’s your own. 
DOCTOR.  To all my friends a burden grown. 
ANSWER.  Because to few you will be shewn. 
        Give them good wine, and meat to stuff,
        You may have company enough. 
DOCTOR.  No more I hear my church’s bell,
        Than if it rang out for my knell. 
ANSWER.  Then write and read, ’twill do as well. 
DOCTOR.  At thunder now no more I start,
        Than at the rumbling of a cart. 
ANSWER.  Think then of thunder when you f—­t. 
DOCTOR.  Nay, what’s incredible, alack! 
        No more I hear a woman’s clack. 
ANSWER.  A woman’s clack, if I have skill,
        Sounds somewhat like a throwster’s mill;
        But louder than a bell, or thunder: 
        That does, I own, increase my wonder.

THE DEAN’S MANNER OF LIVING