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THE ROYAL SHEEP. 63
Exceeded, I believe, by no man,
'You, if you please,'
'Off! off! (cry'd Skinner with your carrion heap;
'Quick, d me, take away your nasty sheep!
• 'Whilst 1 command, not e'en the king
'You(reply'd Robinson) yon cry out 'Shame!*
'Fou give the harmless mutton a bad name!
* Sweet Master Alderman, do n't make this rout:
'With those same fine large letters on the cart, 'Which brought this blasted mutton here for sale.'
Poor Skinner read, and read it with a start!
Like Hamlet frighten'd at his father's ghost,
The alderman now turn'd to deep reflection;
'Dear Mr. Robinson, I beg your pardon;
64 THE TINKER AND GLAZIER.
'Whoever says, the mutton is not good,
'Knows nothing, Mr. Robinson of food.
'I verily believe, I could turn glutton,
• On such neat, wholesome, pretty-looking mutton;
'Pray Mr. Robinson, the mutton sell;
'I hope, sir,.that his majesty is well.'
So saying, Mr. Robinson he quitted,
With cherubimic smiles, and placid brows,
For such embarrassing occasions fitted;
To work went Robinson to sell the sheep,
THE TINKER AND GLAZIER.
(by Mh. Uahiusom.)
Since Gratitude, 'tis said, is not o'er common,
And high and low, with man, and eke with woman,
Wc ought, at least, whene'er we chance to find,
To shew they may possess the human mind,
Who knows how far the novelty may charm?
It can't at any rate, do much harm;
The tale wc give then, and we need not fear,
Two thirsty souls met on a sultry day,
One Glazier Dick, the other Tom the Tinker;
Both with light purses, but with spirits gay,
THE TINKER AND GLAZIER. 65
Their ale they quaff'd;
Had this blithe ending—'Bring us t'other mug!'
The kettle gaily singing on the fire,
How long and rueful his round visage grew:
And d ^d the kettle's bottom o'er and o'er.'
'Come, come!' says Dick, 'fetch us, my friend more ale; 'All trades yon know, must live: 'Let's drink—'May trade with none of us, ne'er fail! 'The job to Tom, then give; 'G 2
05 THE TINKER AND GLAZIEK.
'And, for the ale he drinks, our lad of mettle, . Take my word for it, soon will mend jour kettle. The landlord yields, but hopes 'tis no offence, To curse the Hade that thrives at his expense. Tom undertakes the job; to work he goes, And just concludes it with the ev'ning's close.
Souls so congenial, had friends Tom and Dick,
They might be fairly call'd brother and brother; Thought lorn to serve my friend, I know a trick,
* And one good turn always deserves another!'
Out now he slily slips,
And off he nimbly trips.
Nor, in the dark,
Misses his mark,
Back as he goes,
His bosom glows,
Importance in his face;
Thus briefly states the case— • Dick! I may give you joy, you 're a made man;
• I've done your business most complete my friend; 'I 'm off!—the devil may catch me if he can,
'Each window of the church you 've got to mend: ■ Ingratitude's worst curse on my head fall, • 'If, for your sake, I have not broke them all!' Tom with surprize, sees Dick turn pale, Who deeply sighs—' O, la!' Then drops his under jaw, And all his pow'rs of utt'rance fail:
A MATRIMONIAL DIALOGUE. 67
While horror in his ghastly face,
Anil bursting eye-balls Tom can trace, Whose sympathetic muscles, just and true,
Share with heart,
Dick's unknown smart,
At length, friend Dick his speech regain'd,
'You have, indeed, my business done!
'And I, as well as you must run;
'For let me act the best I can,
'Tom! Tom! I am a ruin'd man. 'Zounds! zounds! this friendship is a foolish act, • You did n't know with the parish I contract; 'Your wish to serve me, then, will cost me dear, 'I always mend those windows, by the year.'
A MATRIMONII DIALOGUE:
HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO MY LORD SNAKE.
One Sabbath-day morning said Sampson to Sue
do; Believe me, my dear, it is sweeter than syrup To taste of a title as cooked up in Europe; 'Your ladyship' here, and 'Your ladyship' there, • Sir knight,' and 'your grace,' and • his worship
the mayor!' But here, we are nothing but vulgar all over, The wife of a coMet|carcc thinks you above her: What a country is Mis, where madam and miss Is the highest address from each vulgar-born cur, And I—even I—am but Mister and Sir!