University of Virginia Library

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THOMAS AND HIS CASSOCK.

CASSOCK.
Ah! never, sir, yet
Any business to me, your poor cassock, you set.
I have stay'd till I'm tired: but you fancy, I see,
That I can't speak to you; so you won't speak to me,

TOM.
Why, indeed, Mr. Cassock, I did not, I own,
Think you would have begun with your preaching so soon.
I hope you'll this faculty keep when I wear ye:
So your sermon begin; for I promise to hear ye
Without nod or yawn; and I'll tell you—what's more—
That I ne'er so much minded a cassock before.

CASSOCK.
How can you, hard-hearted, thus let me lie here
Idle month after month, nay, and year after year?
Your gold you have treated much better than me,
And have kept it from rusting,—though not from South-Sea;
While I lie crumpled up in dust and in sloth,
To be rotted by age, or be eaten by moth.
If thus, I can tell you, much longer you do,
You'll be forced, when I perish, to buy you a new
Nor yet can you sell me, that loss to prevent,
Without losing twenty or thirty per cent.

TOM.
I hope you don't think that my brain is unsound,
For the saving a penny to squander a pound;
For the sake of a cassock that's old, though not worn,
From the channel of getting so sudden to turn.
Would you have me aside my advantages fling
Ere my thousands to ten or to twenty I bring?
As well a brush'd beaver to Chelsea might range,
Or resort to Spring-Gardens, in time of the 'Change.

CASSOCK.
You can't be so ignorant, sure, of the town
As to fancy that gain is forbidden the gown.
You may talk of the Funds and the Stocks all the day,
And at night may resort to the park or the play.
You may write billets-doux, if you have but a care;
And may farther proceed than to Phyllis the fair.
You may carry on every design as before;
Of which take two proofs, that are good as two-score:
That a man may in orders be rich and gallant,
Bear witness their Graces of York and of Cant.

TOM.
But then folks all my failures with malice will note,
Who will damn in a gown what they like in a coat.
And if I disgrace you by wearing, you'll own
I should do you more credit to let you alone.

CASSOCK.
If so much you're afraid of becoming a jest,
Keep your counsel, and no man will smell out the priest.
Though you orders should take without farther delay,
You may keep them in petto against a good day.
If his braying the ass will take care to keep in,
He may meet with respect in a lion's old skin.
So a Jesuit disguised like a Quaker may go,
Or an abbot lurk safe in the form of a beau.
Brother Penn in his time by court-favour could thrive,
And the rogue Robin knows Abbé Strickland alive.
You may still wear a sword, nay, and write yourself 'squire,
Like the great Mr. Hill, or the greater Matt. Prior.

TOM.
No! your mongrels I hate, and, whate'er you can say,
Will be plainly and openly cleric or lay.
I like not sir Robert's condition, who long
Had betwixt hawk and buzzard so foolishly hung;
Who was first to be bishop to Durham preferr'd,
And then (but in Ireland) a temporal lord;
And, desiring at least somewhat better than that,
Chosen knight for a shire, as a commoner sat.

CASSOCK.
There can never be danger that you should appear
In a Whig House of Commons, except at the bar.
But if doubling and shuffling you hate, as you say,
Either put me on now; or else wait for a day,
And then let a positive answer be given:
Never hang like Erasmus between hell and heaven.

TOM.
Nay, hold there: I long have been used to command,
If not by the turn, by the weight, of my hand;
But I must not, when gown'd, for the aid of my tongue,
Use that orator's weapon, though never so strong.
I'm afraid I in vain at my studies may pore,
And talk till my lungs and my stomach be sore.
When they know me disarm'd, I doubt, people will mind
Words only no more than what makes them,—the wind;
Nor value what blows to the cushion I deal:
Seeing is but believing; the truth we're to feel.

CASSOCK.
However, one thing you'll have power to do,—
For them care as little as they care for you.
If your voice to o'erstrain, being weakly, you fear,
You may mumble your sermon, and let no one hear.
If you like not the pulpit except you could bawl,
You may let it alone, and not come there at all;
Nay, and yet save your pence: any younker will go,
For the honour of preaching, a dinner, or so.

TOM.
But before I to orders directly proceed,
Methinks I a year or two longer would read.

CASSOCK.
You would read! pray, for what? In the court, I can tell,
It is not expected so much as to spell.
You by far other ways for preferment must seek:
Ask Bentley: A bishop should never read Greek.
It is better, if aught for advancement you care,
To be Talbot or Hoadly than Potter or Hare.

TOM.
When my schemes I have finish'd, and made up my store,
I will then put you on.

CASSOCK.
I'm afraid, not before.