A TALE OF A TUB.
149
Late watchers are no early wakers, madam:
But if your ladyship will have him call'd—
But if your ladyship will have him call'd—
Lady T. Will have him call'd! wherefore did I, sir, bid him
Be call d, you weazel, vermin of an huisher?
You will return your wit to your first stile
Of Martin Polecat, by these stinking tricks,
If you do use them: I shall no more call you
Pol Martin, by the title of a gentleman,
If you go on thus.
Be call d, you weazel, vermin of an huisher?
You will return your wit to your first stile
Of Martin Polecat, by these stinking tricks,
If you do use them: I shall no more call you
Pol Martin, by the title of a gentleman,
If you go on thus.
[Exit. Pol. I am gone.
Lady T. Be quick then,
In your come off; and make amends, you stote!
Was ever such a fulmart for an huisher,
To a great worshipful lady, as myself!
Who, when I heard his name first, Martin Polecat,
A stinking name, and not to be pronounced
In any lady's presence without a reverence;[1]
My very heart e'en yearn'd, seeing the fellow
Young, pretty, and handsome; being then, I say,
A basket-carrier, and a man condemn'd
To the salt-petre works; made it my suit
To master Peter Tub, that I might change it;
And call him as I do now, by Pol Martin,
To have it sound like a gentleman in an office,
And made him mine own foreman, daily waiter.
And he to serve me thus! ingratitude,
Beyond the coarseness yet of any clownage,
Shewn to a lady!
In your come off; and make amends, you stote!
Was ever such a fulmart for an huisher,
To a great worshipful lady, as myself!
Who, when I heard his name first, Martin Polecat,
A stinking name, and not to be pronounced
In any lady's presence without a reverence;[1]
My very heart e'en yearn'd, seeing the fellow
Young, pretty, and handsome; being then, I say,
A basket-carrier, and a man condemn'd
To the salt-petre works; made it my suit
To master Peter Tub, that I might change it;
And call him as I do now, by Pol Martin,
To have it sound like a gentleman in an office,
And made him mine own foreman, daily waiter.
And he to serve me thus! ingratitude,
Beyond the coarseness yet of any clownage,
Shewn to a lady!
Re-enter Pol Martin.
What now, is he stirring?
Pol. Stirring betimes out of his bed, and ready.
Pol. Stirring betimes out of his bed, and ready.
Lady T. And comes he then?
- ↑ ——— without a reverence.] An allusion to the good old custom of apologizing for the introduction of a free expression, by bowing to the principal person in company, and saying,—Sir, with reverence, or, Sir, reverence. There is much filthy stuff on this
