So with impetuous Hafte he flung him that,
Which the sharp Rafcal parried with his Hat.
His right-hand Man, a Brother of our Quill,
Prudently chofe to fhew his own good Will
By the fame Token, and without much Scruple
Made the Red-rugg'd Collector's Income duple.
My Heart-for Truth I always must confefs-
Did fink-* an Inch exactly- -more or less.
With both my Eyes I view'd the Thief's Approach;
And read the Cafe of Piftol verfus Coach.
A woeful Cafe, which I had oft heard quoted;
But ne'er before in all my Practice noted.
So when the Lawyers brought in their Report,
Guinea per Chriftian to be paid in Court,
Well off, thinks I, with this fame Son of a Whore,
If he prefers his Action for no more.
No more! why hang him, is not that too much,
To pay a Guinea for his vile High-Dutch?
'Tis true, he has us here upon the hank,
With Action ftrong; and fwears to it point blank :
Yet why refign the yellow One Pound One?
No, tax his Bill, and give him Silver, John.
So faid, fo done, and putting Fift to Fob
I flung th' apparent value of the Job,
of the Royal Society and afterwards proverbially adopted in Ridicule by the Author and his Friends.
An Ounce of Silver, into his Receiver,
And mark'd the Iffue of the Rogue's Behaviour.
He, like a thankless Wretch, that's overpaid,
Refents, forfooth, th' Affront upon his Trade;
And treats my Kindness with a- -this won't do,
Look ye here, Sir, I must ha' Gold from you.
To this Demand of the ungrateful Cur,
Defendant John thought proper to demurr.
The Bricklayer joining in the White Opinion,
Tender'd five Shillings to Diana's Minion;
Who ftill kept threatning to pervade his Buff,
Because the Payment was not prompt enough.
Before the Women, with their Purses each,
Had Strength to place Contents within his reach,
One of his Pieces, falling downwards, drew
The Rogue's Attention hungrily thereto.
Strait he began to damn the Charioteer.~
Come down ye Dog, reach me that Guinea there.
Down jumps th' affrighted Coachman on the Sand,
Picks up the Gold, and puts it in his Hand:
Mifling a rare Occafion, tim'rous Daftard,
To feize his Piftol, and difmount the Baftard.
Now, while in deep and ferious Ponderment
I watch'd the Motions of his next Intent,
He wheel'd about, as one full bent to try
The Matter in Dispute 'twixt him and I;
And how my Silver Sentiments would hold
Against that hard Dilemma, Balls or Gold.
No Help! faid I, No Tachygraphic Pow'r,
To interpofe in this unequal Hour!
I doubt―――I must refign— there's no defending
The Cause against that murderous Fire-Engine.
When lo! defcending to her Champion's Aid
The Goddess Short-Hand, bright Celestial Maid,
Clad in a letter'd Veft of filver Hue*,
Wrought by her fav'rite Phebe's Hand, she flew.
Th' unfolded Surface fell exactly neat,
In juft Proportions o'er her Shape compleat;
Distinct with Lines of purer flaming White,
Tranfparent Work, Intelligibly bright;
Form'd to give Pleasure to th' ingenious Mind,
But puzzle and confound the ftupid Hind.
Soon as the Wretch the Sacred Writing spy'd,
What Conjuration-Sight is this, he cry'd!
My Eyes mean-while the Heav'nly Vifion clear'd,
It fhew'd how all his hellish Look appear'd.
(Heav'n fhield all Travellers from foul Disgrace,
As I faw Tyburn in the Ruffian's Face;
And if aright I judge of human Mien,
His Face ere long in Tyburn will be seen.)
Alluding to fome Short-hand Characters neatly cut in Paper by the
Author's Sifter, and presented to M. F. Efq;
The Hoftile Blaze foon feiz'd his mifcreant Blood;
He ftar'd-turn'd fhort-and fled into the Wood.
Danger difmift, the gentle Goddefs fmil'd,
Like a fond Parent o'er her fearful Child;
And thus began to drive the dire Surprize
Forth from my anxious Breast, in jocund wife.
My Son, faid fhe, this Fellow is no Wefton*,
No Adverfary, Child, to make a Jest on.
With Ink Sulphureous, upon Human Skin
He writes, indenting horrid Marks therein;
But- -thou haft read his Fate-the halter'd Slave
Shall quickly fing his Penitential Stave.
Purfue thy Rout; but when thou tak'ft another,
Beftride fome generous Quadruped or other.
Let this enchanted Vehicle confine,
From this Time forth, no Votaries of mine:
Let me no more fee honest Short-hand Men
Coop'd up in Wood, like Poultry in a Pen.
And at Trin: Coll: when e'er thou art enlarging
On Epping Foreft, note this in the Margin:
Let Cambridge Scholars, that are not quite bare,
"Shun the difhoneft Track, and ride thro' Ware."
Adieu! my Son-refume thy wonted Jokes; And write Account hereof to Martin Folkes.
Wefton-The Inventor of a Method of Short-hand, then in fome Vogue; the great Irregularity and Defects of which our Author had often humourously exposed.
This faid, fhe mounts-The Characters divine
Thro' the bright Path immensely brilliant shine.
I tell the Story-and fubjoin the Note
And lastly, to fulfill the dread Commands,
These hafty Lines prefume to kifs your Hands.
Excufe the tedious Tale of a Difafter,
* A Title ufually given to the Author by his Short-hand Scholars.
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