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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426417" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Grand Question Debated: Whether Hamilton’s Bawn Should Be Turned Into A Barrack Or Malt-House</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus spoke to my lady the knight full of care,<br>'Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.<br>This Hamilton's bawn, while it sticks in my hand<br>I lose by the house what I get by the land;<br>But how to dispose of it to the best bidder,<br>For a barrack or malt-house, we now must consider.<br>'First, let me suppose I make it a malt-house,<br>Here I have computed the profit will fall t'us:<br>There's nine hundred pounds for labour and grain,<br>I increase it to twelve, so three hundred remain;<br>A handsome addition for wine and good cheer,<br>Three dishes a-day, and three hogsheads a-year;<br>With a dozen large vessels my vault shall be stored;<br>No little scrub joint shall come on my board;<br>And you and the Dean no more shall combine<br>To stint me at night to one bottle of wine;<br>Nor shall I, for his humour, permit you to purloin<br>A stone and a quarter of beef from my sir-loin.<br>If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant;<br>My dear, I have ponder'd again and again on't:<br>In poundage and drawbacks I lose half my rent,<br>Whatever they give me, I must be content,<br>Or join with the court in every debate;<br>And rather than that, I would lose my estate.'<br>Thus ended the knight; thus began his meek wife:<br>'It must, and it shall be a barrack, my life.<br>I'm grown a mere mopus; no company comes<br>But a rabble of tenants, and rusty dull rums.<br>With parsons what lady can keep herself clean?<br>I'm all over daub'd when I sit by the Dean.<br>But if you will give us a barrack, my dear,<br>The captain I'm sure will always come here;<br>I then shall not value his deanship a straw,<br>For the captain, I warrant, will keep him in awe;<br>Or, should he pretend to be brisk and alert,<br>Will tell him that chaplains should not be so pert;<br>That men of his coat should be minding their prayers,<br>And not among ladies to give themselves airs.'<br>Thus argued my lady, but argued in vain;<br>The knight his opinion resolved to maintain.<br>But Hannah, who listen'd to all that was past,<br>And could not endure so vulgar a taste,<br>As soon as her ladyship call'd to be dress'd,<br>Cried, 'Madam, why surely my master's possess'd,<br>Sir Arthur the maltster! how fine it will sound!<br>I'd rather the bawn were sunk under ground.<br>But, madam, I guess'd there would never come good,<br>When I saw him so often with Darby and Wood.<br>And now my dream's out; for I was a-dream'd<br>That I saw a huge rat—O dear, how I scream'd!<br>And after, methought, I had lost my new shoes;<br>And Molly, she said, I should hear some ill news.<br>'Dear Madam, had you but the spirit to tease,<br>You might have a barrack whenever you please:<br>And, madam, I always believed you so stout,<br>That for twenty denials you would not give out.<br>If I had a husband like him, I purtest,<br>Till he gave me my will, I would give him no rest;<br>And, rather than come in the same pair of sheets<br>With such a cross man, I would lie in the streets:<br>But, madam, I beg you, contrive and invent,<br>And worry him out, till he gives his consent.<br>Dear madam, whene'er of a barrack I think,<br>An I were to be hang'd, I can't sleep a wink:<br>For if a new crotchet comes into my brain,<br>I can't get it out, though I'd never so fain.<br>I fancy already a barrack contrived<br>At Hamilton's bawn, and the troop is arrived;<br>Of this to be sure, Sir Arthur has warning,<br>And waits on the captain betimes the next morning.<br>'Now see, when they meet, how their honours behave;<br>'Noble captain, your servant'—'Sir Arthur, your slave;<br>You honour me much'—'The honour is mine.'—<br>''Twas a sad rainy night'—'But the morning is fine.'—<br>'Pray, how does my lady?'—'My wife's at your service.'—<br>'I think I have seen her picture by Jervas.'—<br>'Good-morrow, good captain'—'I'll wait on you down'—<br>'You shan't stir a foot'—'You'll think me a clown.'—<br>'For all the world, captain, not half an inch farther'—<br>'You must be obey'd—Your servant, Sir Arthur!<br>My humble respects to my lady unknown.'—<br>'I hope you will use my house as your own.''<br>'Go bring me my smock, and leave off your prate,<br>Thou hast certainly gotten a cup in thy pate.'<br>'Pray, madam, be quiet: what was it I said?<br>You had like to have put it quite out of my head.<br>Next day to be sure, the captain will come,<br>At the head of his troop, with trumpet and drum.<br>Now, madam, observe how he marches in state:<br>The man with the kettle-drum enters the gate:<br>Dub, dub, adub, dub. The trumpeters follow.<br>Tantara, tantara; while all the boys holla.<br>See now comes the captain all daub'd with gold lace:<br>O la! the sweet gentleman! look in his face;<br>And see how he rides like a lord of the land,<br>With the fine flaming sword that he holds in his hand;<br>And his horse, the dear creter, it prances and rears;<br>With ribbons in knots at its tail and its ears:<br>At last comes the troop, by word of command,<br>Drawn up in our court; when the captain cries, STAND!<br>Your ladyship lifts up the sash to be seen,<br>For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen.<br>The captain, to show he is proud of the favour,<br>Looks up to your window, and cocks up his beaver;<br>(His beaver is cock'd: pray, madam, mark that,<br>For a captain of horse never takes off his hat,<br>Because he has never a hand that is idle,<br>For the right holds the sword, and the left holds the bridle<br>Then flourishes thrice his sword in the air,<br>As a compliment due to a lady so fair;<br>(How I tremble to think of the blood it has spilt!)<br>Then he lowers down the point, and kisses the hilt.<br>Your ladyship smiles, and thus you begin:<br>'Pray, captain, be pleased to alight and walk in.'<br>The captain salutes you with congee profound,<br>And your ladyship curtseys half way to the ground.<br>'Kit, run to your master, and bid him come to us;<br>I'm sure he'll be proud of the honour you do us;<br>And, captain, you'll do us the favour to stay,<br>And take a short dinner here with us to-day:<br>You're heartily welcome; but as for good cheer,<br>You come in the very worst time of the year;<br>If I had expected so worthy a guest—'<br>'Lord, madam! your ladyship sure is in jest;<br>You banter me, madam; the kingdom must grant—'<br>'You officers, captain, are so complaisant!''—<br>'Hist, hussey, I think I hear somebody coming '—<br>'No madam: 'tis only Sir Arthur a-humming.<br>To shorten my tale, (for I hate a long story,)<br>The captain at dinner appears in his glory;<br>The dean and the doctor have humbled their pride,<br>For the captain's entreated to sit by your side;<br>And, because he's their betters, you carve for him first;<br>The parsons for envy are ready to burst.<br>The servants, amazed, are scarce ever able<br>To keep off their eyes, as they wait at the table;<br>And Molly and I have thrust in our nose,<br>To peep at the captain in all his fine clo'es.<br>Dear madam, be sure he's a fine spoken man,<br>Do but hear on the clergy how glib his tongue ran;<br>And, 'madam,' says he, 'if such dinners you give,<br>You'll ne'er want for parsons as long as you live.<br>I ne'er knew a parson without a good nose;<br>But the devil's as welcome, wherever he goes:<br>G—d d—n me! they bid us reform and repent,<br>But, z—s! by their looks, they never keep Lent:<br>Mister curate, for all your grave looks, I'm afraid<br>You cast a sheep's eye on her ladyship's maid:<br>I wish she would lend you her pretty white hand<br>In mending your cassock, and smoothing your band:<br>(For the Dean was so shabby, and look'd like a ninny,<br>That the captain supposed he was curate to Jinny.)<br>'Whenever you see a cassock and gown,<br>A hundred to one but it covers a clown.<br>Observe how a parson comes into a room;<br>G—d d—n me, he hobbles as bad as my groom;<br>A scholard, when just from his college broke loose,<br>Can hardly tell how to cry bo to a goose;<br>Your Noveds, and Bluturks, and Omurs, and stuff<br>By G—, they don't signify this pinch of snuff.<br>To give a young gentleman right education,<br>The army's the only good school in the nation:<br>My schoolmaster call'd me a dunce and a fool,<br>But at cuffs I was always the cock of the school;<br>I never could take to my book for the blood o' me,<br>And the puppy confess'd he expected no good o' me.<br>He caught me one morning coquetting his wife,<br>But he maul'd me, I ne'er was so maul'd in my life: <br>So I took to the road, and, what's very odd,<br>The first man I robb'd was a parson, by G—.<br>Now, madam, you'll think it a strange thing to say,<br>But the sight of a book makes me sick to this day.<br>'Never since I was born did I hear so much wit,<br>And, madam, I laugh'd till I thought I should split.<br>So then you look'd scornful, and snift at the Dean,<br>As who should say, 'Now, am I skinny and lean?'<br>But he durst not so much as once open his lips,<br>And the doctor was plaguily down in the hips.'<br>Thus merciless Hannah ran on in her talk,<br>Till she heard the Dean call, 'Will your ladyship walk?'<br>Her ladyship answers, 'I'm just coming down:'<br>Then, turning to Hannah, and forcing a frown,<br>Although it was plain in her heart she was glad,<br>Cried, 'Hussey, why sure the wench is gone mad!<br>How could these chimeras get into your brains!—<br>Come hither and take this old gown for your pains.<br>But the Dean, if this secret should come to his ears,<br>Will never have done with his gibes and his jeers:<br>For your life, not a word of the matter I charge ye:<br>Give me but a barrack, a fig for the clergy.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We give the world to understand,<br>Our thriving Dean has purchased land;<br>A purchase which will bring him clear<br>Above his rent four pounds a-year;<br>Provided to improve the ground,<br>He will but add two hundred pound;<br>And from his endless hoarded store,<br>To build a house, five hundred more.<br>Sir Arthur, too, shall have his will,<br>And call the mansion Drapier's-Hill;<br>That, when a nation, long enslaved,<br>Forgets by whom it once was saved;<br>When none the Drapier's praise shall sing,<br>His signs aloft no longer swing,<br>His medals and his prints forgotten,<br>And all his handkerchiefs are rotten,<br>His famous letters made waste paper,<br>This hill may keep the name of Drapier;<br>In spite of envy, flourish still,<br>And Drapier's vie with Cooper's-Hill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Swift">Jonathan Swift</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426417" data-title="The Grand Question Debated: Whether Hamilton’s Bawn Should Be Turned Into A Barrack Or Malt-House de Jonathan Swift" data-description="Thus spoke to my lady the knight full of care,
'Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.
This Hamilton's bawn, while it sticks in my hand
I lose by the house what I get by the land;
But how to dispose of it to the best bidder,
For a barrack or..."></div>
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