Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A GENUINE DIALOGUE BETWEEN A GENTLEWOMAN AT DERBY AND HER MAID, by JOHN BYROM


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A GENUINE DIALOGUE BETWEEN A GENTLEWOMAN AT DERBY AND HER MAID, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Mrs. Jenny, come here: I'm told that you have been / to see this man
Last Line: She'll never part with jenny while she lives.
Subject(s): Household Employees; Servants; Domestics; Maids


MISTRESS AND JENNY.

MRS. JENNY, come here: I'm told that you have been
To see this man—
JENNY. What man?
MRS. Why you have seen
The young Pretender, hussy, at his lodging.
Is it not so?—Come, tell me without dodging.
JENNY. Why, really, Madam, I was passing by,
Thinking no harm, not in the least, not I;
And somebody or other that I met—
MRS. What "somebody?"
JENNY. Indeed, now I forget—
Said what a handsome man he was;—and so,
Begging your pardon, Madam, I DID GO;
But had no ill intention in the thing,—
A cat may look, as folks say, at a King.
MRS. "KING" do you call him, you rebellious slut?
JENNY. I did not call him so, good Madam, but—
MRS. But me no butting;—not another day
Shall any rebel in my service stay.
I owe you twenty shillings,—there's a Guinea;—
Pack up and go about your bus'ness, Jenny.
Matters are come indeed to a fine pass!—
The next thing, I suppose, you'll go to Mass.
JENNY. "To Mass?" What road? For I don't know the place,
Nor could I tell which way to turn my face.
MRS. "Turn?"—You'll turn Papist and believe Black's White.
JENNY. Why, bless me, Madam, I've not lost my sight!
MRS. And then the Priest will bid you cut my throat.
JENNY. Dear loving Mistress, how you talk by rote!
I would not hurt a hair of your dear head,
Were all the Priests in Mass to kill me dead:
And—I don't say it with design to brag,—
Since I've been with you, you han't lost a rag.
I "cut your throat!" because I saw the Prince,
And never thought of black or white e'er since.
MRS. Good!—this is you that did not call him King;
And is not Prince, you minx, the self-same thing?
JENNY. You are so hasty, Madam, with your snarls!—
Would you have me call the gentleman plain Charles?
MRS. "Prince Charles" again!—Speak out your treason tales,—
"His Royal Highness Charles, the Prince of Wales!"
JENNY. Oh! Madam! you say more of him than me;
For I said nothing of his pedigree.
MRS. "Pedigree!" Fool! What would the wench be at?
What pedigree has any bastard brat?
JENNY. Nay, I'm no Harold, be he what he will,—
He is a charming man to look at still.
When I was got in there amongst the throng,
His Royal Highness—
MRS. Hussy! hold your tongue!
JENNY. You call'd him so yourself but just e'en now.
MRS. Yes, so I did;—but then, the manner—how?
JENNY. And will you turn a servant out of doors,
Because her manners ben't so fine as yours?
MRS. Jenny! I say you had no bus'ness, neither
To see the creature, nor go near him either.
JENNY. "Creature!" Nay, pardon, Madam,—he's no creature,
But a sweet comely Christian, ev'ry feature.
MRS. "No creature?"—Would you worship him, you dunce?
JENNY. I would you were to see his Worship once!
MRS. How can the girl cross questions like a fool?
Or think that I should go and see the tool?
Jenny! though you have done so much amiss,
I pity such an ignorance as this.
If you'll go mind your work as heretofore,
And keep at home, I'll pass the matter o'er.
JENNY. Ah! Madam, you're so good! let me but speak
My simple mind, or else my heart will break,
I've such a strange foreboding in my heart,
If you but saw him once we should not part.
Do see him once! What harm is there in seeing?
If after that there be not an agreeing,
Then call me twenty Rebel sluts, if you,
When you have seen him, ben't a Rebel too.

Now whether Jenny did persuade her dame,
Is not as yet betrumpeted by fame.
Sometimes there happen to be secret views
That are not put into the public news;
But by report, that private rumour gives,
She'll never part with Jenny while she lives.





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