'D'ye ask? go, cut the Line, double the Cape,
Traverse from end to end the spacious deep;
Search both the Indies, Bantam, and Japan;
Fetch sugars from Barbadoes, wines from Spain.'
What need all this? I've wealth enough in store,
I thank the Fates, nor care for adding more.
’You cannot have too much; this point to gain,
You must no crime, no perjury refrain,
Hunger you must endure, hardship, and want,
Amidst full barns keep an eternal Lent,
And though you've more than Buckingham has spent,
Or Cuddon got, like stingy Bethel save,[1]
And grudge yourself the charges of a grave,
And the small ransom of a single groat,
From sword or halter to redeem your throat.'
And pray, why all this sparing? 'Don't you know?
Only to enrich a spendthrift heir, or so,
Who shall, when you are timely dead and gone,
With his gilt coach and six amuse the town,
Keep his gay brace of punks, and vainly give
More for a night, than you to fine for shrieve.
But you lose time ; the wind and vessel waits,
Quick, let's aboard ! Hey for the Downs and Straits.'
Or, if all-powerful money fail of charms
To tempt the wretch, and push him on to harms,
With a strong hand does fierce ambition seize,
And drag him forth from soft repose and ease;
Amidst ten thousand dangers spurs him on,
With loss of blood and limbs to hunt renown;
Who for reward of many a wound and maim,
Is paid with nought but wooden legs and fame,
And the poor comfort of a grinning fate,
To stand recorded in the next Gazette.
'But hold,' cries one, ’your paltry gibing wit,
Or learn, henceforth, to aim it more aright;
If this be any, 'tis a glorious fault,
Which through all ages has been ever thought
- ↑ Alderman Cuddon and Sheriff Singsby Bethel.
