One day he cried — "Murders, and songs, and great news!"
Another as loudly — "Here blacken your shoes!"
At Domvile's[1] full often he fed upon bits,
For winding of jacks up, and turning of spits;
Lick'd all the plates round, had many a grubbing,
And now and then got from the cook-maid a drubbing:
Such bastings effect upon him could have none:
The dog will be patient that's struck with a bone.
Sir Thomas, observing this Hartley withal
So expert and so active at brushes and ball,
Was mov'd with compassion, and thought it a pity
A youth should be lost, that had been so witty:
Without more ado, he vamps up my spark,
And now we'll suppose him an eminent clerk;
Suppose him an adept in all the degrees
Of scribbling cum dasho, and hooking of fees;
Suppose him a miser, attorney per bill,
Suppose him a courtier — suppose what you will —
Yet would you believe, though I swore by the Bible,
That he took up two news-boys for crying the libel?
- ↑ Sir T. Domvile, patentee of the Hanaper office.
