Mary, the Cook-Maid's Address to Her Fellow Artists of London and Westminster

Ge'men and ladies of the spits, pots, saucepans, and kettles,
And all the other 'tensils made use of in dressing of wittles;
These lines are to let you know, that I wonder what you mean,
That you don't all meet together, dress'd sweet and clean;
And, while you see 'tis the fashion, throughout the nation,
To 'drefs the K—(God bless him) with 'dolence and 'gratulation,
Go, all in a body, and present him your duty on his accession,
As other loyal subjects of like respectable profession.
You hear that as how the painters, and gravers that dine at
The foundling hospital, and called themselves artists, design it.
Now, that we are artists as well as they, stands upon record in bookery;
For who of you all hath not read books on the Art of Cookery?
Nay I myself have wrote a volume upon it.— But let that pass;
Tho' it was allowed to be as full of 'rudition as Mrs. Glasse;
And, but that I then liv'd well, and thought begging an impropriety,
I might have had, if I had ask'd, a premium from the what-do-ye-call-it society.
For you are to know that I have not had so low a breeding,
But that, tho' a cook-maid, I am had-up in writing and reading,
And remember that Mr. Pope, when he tells of lord Timon's feats,
Joins together the artists of pictures, musick, meats.
Stand up, therefore, my friends, for the honour of your profession,
And insist upon making a party in the artist's procession.
But, if you are prevented by those nigglers of the pencil and chissel,
Make a procession of your own, and let them go whistle;
At the same time give a hint to their cook, who is the son of a sinner,
If, while they are gone to St. James's, he don't take care to spoil their dinner;
Nay, for the slight already put on us, as I hold my pen,
If ev'ry cook was of my mind, they should never have a good dinner again.
They pride themselves mightily on their taste! to be sure!
But, in all matters of taste, a cook must certainly be the greatest coney-sewer.
I like such fellows pretending to have of us no opinion,
When, I'll be hanged, if any of them know the taste of a shalott from an onion.
They are so vain forsooth, of their paultry raree-show of painting.
I am sure, I was starved and squeedged there till I was almost fainting.
Such sights may serve indeed your skinny, scraggy people of condition;
But, in my mind, a well-roasted sirloin of beef is a much more better exhibition.
Let these upstarts, however, do as they will, I do seriously profess
That, as to going to St. James's, I think you can do no less.
For, if what I have heard be true, our calling is aggriev'd:
And 'tis necessary you should do your best to get it reliev'd:
Being told as how that good-eating is going out of fashion,
Which is, you know, enough to put any cook in the world into a passion.
But what vexes me most, and seems to be a bad presage, is,
That I hear the K—g's, servants are all actually at board-wages:
So that, as his example will likely be followed by the quality,
Good-bye to new French sauces, and old English hospitality.
Nay, John, the butler, tells me (tho' he's a little waggish)
That one of the greatest ladies in the kingdom sups on Scotch kale and haggis.
Not but what ladies should eat what they like; but 'tis so comical,
That great folks should be, as our chaplain says, so e-canonical.
I would have you, therefore, go and make an humble representation
Of the evils that threaten the state of cookery in this nation:
And I doubt not, by what I have heard of the K—g's goodness and sagicity
But that you will meet with proper encouragement from his M-j—y;
Who, the premises considered, will certainly, on mature reflection,
Take every man and woman of us under his protection;
And, if he does not find us work, will have the gracious intentions,
To give us something to play with, by granting us all pensions.