Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works ::

Releas'd from the noise of the Butcher and Baker
Who, my old Friends be thanked, did seldom forsake her
And from the soft Duns of my Landlord the Quaker

From chiding the Footmen and watching the Lasses,
From Nell that burn'd Milk, and Tom that broke Glasses
(Sad mischiefs thro which a good housekeeper passes!)

From some real Care but more fancy'd vexation
From a life party Colour'd half reason half passion
Here lies after all the best Wench in the Nation

From the Rhine to the Po, from the Thames to the Rhone
Joanna or Janneton, Jinny or Joan
Twas all one to her by what name She was known

For the Idiom of words very little She heeded
Provided the Matter She drove at succeeded
She took and gave Languages just as She needed

So for Kitching and Market, for bargain & Sale
She paid English or Dutch or french down on the Nail
But in telling a Story she sometimes did fail

Then begging Excuse as She happen'd to Stammer
With respect to her betters but none to her Grammer
Her blush helpt her out and her Jargon became her

361

Her Habit and Mein she endeavor'd to frame
To the different Gout of the place where She came
Her outside stil chang'd, but her inside the same

At the Hague in her Slippers & hair as the Mode is
At Paris all Falbalow'd fine as a Goddess
And at censuring London in smock sleeves and Bodice

She order'd Affairs that few People cou'd tell
In what part about her that mixture did dwell
Of Vrough or Mistress, or Medemoiselle

For her Sirname and race let the Heraults e'en Answer
Her own proper worth was enough to advance her
And he who lik'd her, little valu'd her Grandsire.

But from what House so ever her lineage may come
I wish my own Jinny but out of her Tomb,
Tho all her Relations were there in her Room

Of such terrible beauty She never cou'd boast
As with absolute Sway o'er all hearts rules the roast
When J— bawls out to the Chair for a Toast

But of good Household Features her Person was made
Nor by Faction cry'd up nor of Censure afraid
And her beauty was rather for Use than Parade

Her Blood so well mix't and flesh so well Pasted
That tho her Youth faded her Comliness lasted
The blew was wore off but the Plum was well tasted

Less smooth then her Skin and less white than her breast
Was this pollisht stone beneath which she lyes prest
Stop, Reader and Sigh while thou thinkst on the rest.

With a just trim of Virtue her Soul was endu'd
Not affectedly Pious nor secretly lewd
She cut even between the Cocquet and the Prude.

Her Will with her Duty so equally stood
That seldom oppos'd She was commonly good
And did pritty well, doing just what she wou'd.

362

Declining all Pow'r she found means to perswade
Was then most regarded when most she Obey'd
The Mistress in truth when she seem'd but the Maid

Such care of her own proper Actions She took
That on other folks lives She had no time to look
So Censure and Praise were struck out of her Book

Her thought stil confin'd to its own little Sphere
She minded not who did Excell or did Err
But just as the matter related to her

Then too when her Private Tribunal was rear'd
Her Mercy so mix'd with her judgment appear'd
That her Foes were condemn'd & her friends always clear'd

Her Religion so well with her learning did suite
That in Practice sincere, and in Controverse Mute
She shew'd She knew better to live then dispute

Some parts of the Bible by heart She recited
And much in historical Chapters delighted
But in points about Faith She was something short sighted

So Notions and modes She refer'd to the Schools
And in matters of Conscience adher'd to Two Rules
To advise with no Biggots, and jest with no Fools

And scrupling but little, enough she believ'd
By Charity ample smal sins She retriev'd
And when she had New Cloaths She always receiv'd

Thus stil whilst her Morning unseen fled away
In ord'ring the Linnen and making the Tea
That she scarce cou'd have time for the Psalms of the Day

And while after Dinner the Night came so soon
That half she propos'd very seldom was done
With twenty god bless Me's how this day is gone

While she read and Accounted & payd & abated
Eat and drank, Play'd & Work't, laught & Cry'd, lov'd & hated,
As answer'd the end of her being Created.

363

In the midst of her Age came a cruel Desease
Which neither her Julips nor recepts cou'd appease
So down dropt her Clay, may her Soul be at peace

Retire from this Sepulchre all the Prophane
You that love for Debauch or that marry for gain
Retire least Ye trouble the Manes of J—

But Thou that know'st Love above Intrest or lust
Strew the Myrtle and Rose on this once belov'd Dust
And shed one pious tear upon Jinny the Just

Tread soft on her Grave, and do right to her honor
Let neither rude hand nor ill Tongue light upon her
Do all the smal Favors that now can be done her

And when what Thou lik't shal return to her Clay
For so I'm perswaded she must do one Day
What ever fantastic J**** Asgil may say

When as I have done now, thou shalt set up a Stone
For something however distinguisht or known
May some Pious Friend the Misfortune bemoan
And make thy Concern by reflexion his own.

University of Virginia Library

[Jinny the Just.]