The wicked laity's contriving105
To hinder clergymen from thriving.
Now all the doctor's money spent,
His tenants wrong him in his rent;
The farmers, spitefully combined,
Force him to take his tithes in kind:110
And Parvisol[1] discounts arrears
By bills for taxes and repairs.
Poor Swift, with all his losses vex'd,
Not knowing where to turn him next,
Above a thousand pounds in debt,115
Takes horse, and in a mighty fret
Rides day and night at such a rate,
He soon arrives at Harley's gate;
But was so dirty, pale, and thin,
Old Read[2] would hardly let him in. 120
Said Harley, "Welcome, reverend dean!
What makes your worship look so lean?
Why, sure you won't appear in town
In that old wig and rusty gown?
I doubt your heart is set on pelf125
So much, that you neglect yourself.
What! I suppose, now stocks are high,
You've some good purchase in your eye?
Or is your money out at use?" —
"Truce, good my lord, I beg a truce,"130
(The doctor in a passion cried)
"Your raillery is misapplied;
Experience I have dearly bought;
You know I am not worth a groat:
- ↑ The dean's agent, a Frenchman.
- ↑ The lord treasurer's porter.
