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98 A DESCRIPTION OF LONDON.
Now to the squire, familiar bow'd the knight,
What's strongly mark'd, is quickly known agen And with a frown that awe and dread commanded, The thief-takers severely reprimanded
For thus mistaking gentlemen.
Then bade them ask a pardon on their knees,
Of him that was a knight and F. R. S. Who, rather than the higher pow'rs displease,
Imagin'd that they could not well do less, Then on their knuckles rais'd they hands and eyes,
And crav'd sir Joseph's pardon for belief, That when they jump'd upon him by surprise,
They took so great a gemman for a thief, Hoping to mind the advice of Godly books,
Vi%. not to judge of people by their looks.
A DESCRIPTION OF LONDON.
Houses, churches, mixt together,
THE EARL OF PETERBORO' AND THE MOB. 99
Women—black, red, fair, and grey,
THE EARL OF PETERBOROUGH AND THE MOB.
Through London streets upon a day,
All in his pompous coach—perhaps to dine—
To Frenchmen on the Danube and the Rhine,
Unable such high merit to reward,
The mob resolved to show a great regard;
And so uniting join'd their forces
To draw his carriage, and dismiss the horses,
The.earl from out his carriage pok'd his face,
Then bid them be convine'd and look:
Then swore by G— he was the duke:
Loud bawl'd the earl that they were all deceiv'd—
100 THE GENTLEMAN AND HIS WIFE.
'Zounds!' cry'd the earl, 'be converts theft this minute;' So throwing sixpence to them, 'there, there, there, 'Take that,' crv'd Peterborough with a sneer—
'Now if you think I 'in he, the devil's in it.'
THE GENTLEMAN AND HIS WIFE.
A Man of some small fortune had a wife,,
And pretty well they bore the yoke together:
At times 't was dark and dull, and hazy weather.
Now came the time when mistress in the straw
And Slop appear'd, with fair obstetric paw,
Whilst in a neighbouring room the husband satr
Musing on this thing now, and now on that j.
Now sighing at the sorrows of his wife; Praying to Heav'n that he could take the pain J. But recollecting that such pray'rs were vain,
He made no more an offer of his life.
As thus he Ihusm in solemn study,
Ideas sometimes clear, and sometimes muddy,
In Betty rush'd with comfortable news— * Sir, sir, I wish you joy, I wish you joy— 'Madam is brought to bed of a fine boy—
'As fine as ever stood in shoes.'
'I 'm glad on't Betty cri'd the master— *I pray there may be no disaster;
'All's with your mistress well, I hop«r*
THE GENTLEMAN AND HIS WIFE. 101
Quoth she, 'All 's well as heart can well desire 'With madam and the fine young squire: 'So likewise says old doctor Slop.'
Off Betty hurried as fast as she could scour,
Fast and as hard as any horse
A pretty tolerable course.
Soon happy Betty came again,
Blowing with all her might and main;
Just like a grampus, or a whale;
In sounds, too, that would Calais reach from Dovejv
* Sir, sir, more happy tidings ; 't is not over—
'And madam 's brisker than a nightingale:
* A fine young lady to the world is come,
'Squawling away just as I left the room
'Sir, this is better than a good estate.'
'Humph,' quoth the happy man, and scratch'd his pate.
Now looking up, now looking down; Not with a smile, but somewhat like a frown— 'Good God,' says he, 'why was not I a cock, 'Who never feels of burd'ning brats the shock; * Who, Turk-like, struts amidst his madam's picking, 'Whilst to the hen belongs the care
* To carry them to cat or take the air,
'Or bed beneath her wing the chicken?'
Just as this sweet soliloquy was ended,
For in bounc'd Bet, her rump with rapture jigging— 'Another daughter, sir—a charming child.'— 'Another!' cry'd the man, with wonder wild; 'Zounds! Betty ask your mistress if she's trigging/ JUSTIFICATION.
A Farmer once, who wanted much
A sturdy husbandman;
To suit his thrifty plan:
One who was sparing at his meaty
And sparing in his drink;
Would never flinch or shrink;
Induc'd a clodpole to apply,
Commended by a neighbour, As 'Never hungry, never dry,
'Nor ever tir'd of labour!'
But soon, when hir'd, and set to work,
He prov'd, to crown the bam,
Yet turkey-like, he'd cram!
For bacon-rack was quickly shrunk,
So well he 'd fill his dish;
Be 'd drink so like a fish!
Which made old Squeezum rail and rave,
To babble him like a lying knave,
You 'Never hungry! ne'er athirst!
• Of working never tir'd!' I wish that both your skins had burst,
Ere such a pest I hir'd.
'Hold, zur,' says Hobnail, 'doant ye vly 'In such a deadly twod'dje;