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THE TENDER HUSBAND. 93
Good sir, good doctor, go away:
For this my poor lost treasure:
I 'll pay it, sir, with pleasure.
Nor call her from the blest—
To bid her spirit rest.
Enough one little sigh—
Our noise is all a lie.
Good nurses, shroud my lamb with care;
Her mouth, ah! slowly close;
To peace, my loudest woes.
And, carpenter, for my sad sake,
I 'd not be stingy, sure
Procure of steel, the strongest screws;
To lodge his wife secure?
Ye people who the corpse convey,
Nor shake her precious head;
Did once disturb the dead.
Farewell, my love, for ever lost!
That I again will woo
By all our past delights, my dear,
P—x take me if I do!
ON A BAD SINGER.
When screech-owls screek, their note portends
Upon some hasty errand Tom was sent,
ON A BOWL OF PUNCH.
Whene'er a bowl of punch we make,
Four striking opposites we take;
The strong, the small, the sharp, the sweet,,
Together mix'd, most kindly meet;
And when they happily unite,
The bowl' is pregnant with delight:'
In conversation thus we find,
Says a beau to a lady, pray name if you can,
THE LAWYER AND THE CLIENT.
Two lawyers, when a knotty cause was o'er,
SIR J. BANKS AND THE THIEF-TAKERS.
Sir Joseph, fav'rite of great queens and kings, Whose wisdom, weed and insect hunter sings;
And ladies fair applaud, with smile so dimpling; Went forth one day, amidst the laughing fields, Where nature such exhaustless treasure yields, A simpling!
96 SIR J. BANKS AND THE THIF.F-TAKEUS.
It happen'd on the self-same morn so bright,
Now did a thief-taker so sly,
And quick espy'd the knight with solemn air,
Then junip'd (unsportsman-like) upon his hare.
Hare-like Sir Joseph did not squeak, but bawl'd, With dread prodigiously appall'd
The thief-takers no ceremony us'd; But taking poor Sir Joseph by the neck, They bade him speak;
But first with names their captive knight abus'd.
'Sirs, what d'ye take me for?' the knight exclaim'd
'A thief,' reply'd the runners with a curse: 'And now, sir, let me search you, and be damn'd'— And then they search'd his pockets, fobs and purse:
But 'stead of pistol dire, and crape,
A pocket handkerchief they cast their eye on,
'Sirs, I'm no highwayman,' exclaim'd the knight— 'No—there,"rejoin'd the runners, 'you are right—
'A footpad only—yes we know your trade— 'Yes, you're a pretty babe of grace: •We want no proofs. Old Codger, but your face;
'So come along with us old Blade.'
SIR J. BANKS AND THE THIEF-TAKERS. 97
'Twas useless to resist, or to complain——
That he was highly titled; that he swore
The instant that poor Banks his titles counted,
His guardians Jaugh'd, and clapp'd, and cry'd, 'encore.'
Sir Joseph told them, that a neighboring squire
Should answer for it that he was no thief; On which they plumply damn'd him for a liar, And said such stories should not save his beef; And if they understood their trade, His mittimus would soon be made; And forty pounds be theirs, a pretty sum, For sending such a rogue to kingdom come.
Now to fne squire mov'd pris'ner knight and Ce. The runners taking him in tow,
Like privateers of Britain's warlike nation, Towing a French East-Indiaman, their prize, So black, and of enormous size,
Safe into port for condemnation.
Whether they ty'd his bands behind his back,
For fear the knight might run away, And made, indelicate, his breeches slack,
We've no authority t» say, And now the country people gather'd round, And star'd upon the knight in thought profound,
Not on the system of Linnaus thinking— Fancying they saw a rogue in every feature;— 13uch is the populace's horrid nature
Tow'rds people thro' misfortune sinking.
At length, amidst much mob and mire,
Indeed amidst innumerable ranks, Fatigu'd they reach'd the mansion of the squire, . To prove th' identity of Joseph Banks.