6
No more ! why hang him, is not that too much
To pay a guinea for his vile High Dutch ?
T'is true he has us here upon the hank,
With action strong ; and swear to it point blank,
Yet why resign the yellow one pound one ?
No tax his bill, and give him silver, John.
So said, so done and putting first to fob,
I flung the apparent value of the job,
An ounce of silver into his receiver;
And mark'd the issue of the rogue's behaviour.
He like a thankless wretch that, overpaid,
Resents forsooth, 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 demur,
The bricklayer joining in the white opinion ;
Tender'd five shillings to Diana's Minion,
Who still 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 peices falling downwards, drew
The rogues attention hungrily thereto,
Straight he began to curse 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
Missing a rare occasion, tim'rous coacher
To seize his pistol, and dismount this poacher.
Now while in deep and serious ponderment
I watch'd the motion 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," said I no tachygraphic power
To interpose in this unequal hour,
I doubt—I must resign—there's no descending
The cause against this murderous fire engine.