To part with 'em and fo e'en let 'em go,
Then cries aloud: So ho! my lads! fo ho,
You're gone, unless ye all hold faft below.
They've ferv'd my turn, fo it's fit time to drop 'em ;
The devil, if he wants 'em, let him stop 'em.
Virtuofo had a mind to fee
One that would never discontented be,
But in a careless way to all agree;
He had a fervant much of fop's kind,
Of perfonage uncouth, but sprightly mind:
Humpus, fays he, I order that you find
Out fuch a man, with such a character,
He, in this paper now I give you here,
Or I will lug your ears, or crack your pate,
Or rather you fhall meet with a worse fate,
For I will break your back, and fet you strait.
Bring him to dinner. Humpus foon withdrew,
Was fafe, as having such a one in view,
C
At Covent-Garden dial, whom he found
Sitting with thoughtless air, and look profound.
Who folitary gaping without care,
Seem'd to fay, Who is't will go any where?
Says Humpus, Sir, my master bad me pray
Your company to dine with him to-day.
He fnuffs; then follows, up the ftairs he goes,
Never pulls off his hat, nor cleans his shoes,
But looking round him, faw a handsome room,
And did not much repent that he was come;
Close to the fire he draws an elbow-chair,
And lolling eafy does for fleep prepare.
In comes the family, but he fits ftill,
Thinks, let them take the other chairs that will.
The mafter thus accosts him, "Sir, you're wet
Pray have a cushion underneath your feet.
Thinks he, if I do fpoil it, need I care;
I fee he has eleven more to fpare.
Dinner's brought up, the wife is bid retreat,
And at the upper end must be his feat.
This is not very ufual, thinks the clown,
But is not all the family his own?
And why should I, for contradiction's fake,
Lofe a good dinner, which he bids me take?
If from his table fhe difcarded be,
What need I care, there is the more for me.
After a while the daughter's bid to fland,
And bring him whatsoever he'll command.
Thinks he, the better from the fairer hand.
Young master next must rife to fill him wine,
And starve himself to see the booby dine.
He does't. The father asks, what have you
How dare you give a stranger vinegar?
Sir, 'twas Champaigne I gave him; Sir, indeed!
Take him and scourge him 'till the rascal bleed;
Don't spare him for his tears nor age: I'll try
If cat and nine tails can excuse a lye.
Thinks the clown, that 'twas wine I do believe.
But fuch young rogues are apteft to deceive;
He's none of mine, but his own flesh and blood,
And how know I but 't may be for his good?
When the defert came on, and jellies brought,
Then was the dismal fcene of finding fault,
They were fuch hideous filthy pois'nous stuff
Could not be rail'd at, nor reveng'd enough.
Humpus was ask'd who made 'em. Trembling he
Said, "Sir, it was my lady gave 'em me.
I'll take care she shall no more poison give,
I'll burn the witch; 'ti'n't fitting she should live;
Set faggots in the court, I'll make her fry,
And pray, good Sir, may't it please you to be by.
Then smiling, says the clown, Upon my life,
A pretty fancy this to burn one's wife!
And fince that really is your defign,
Pray let me juft ftep home, and fetch you mine.
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