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July.
What!—Are you afraid to be alone?—
I fear you've been unjust to some one;
Have played the villain, to please your spite,
And, through envy, done what was not right.
Indeed you own you betray your trust;
That oft you are purposely unjust.
Keep me both from your favour and court!
Thus with honour and justice to sport.—
But we'll hear, if you meet with mischance,
And send to your Sub' for assistance.
Mean time, of conscience to drown the voice,
Just-Ass, were this a fit place for noise,
You might set up a strain, to your mind,
As I'm told you're of the singing kind;
But; as 'twould alarm the house to bray,
You had best remain, quiet, there and pray.—
I hear your Fiscal coming this way!
Would you like him you here to surpriſe,
With your long nose, lean jaws, and dead eyes?
Sir John.
My Ewe-necked staring Procu'tor here!—
And I in this coal hole!—Run! my dear—
Rather than that grue should find, should start,
Or hunt me from hence like hare or hart,
To furnish diversion, and a chace,
To the beagles and bitches of the place,
I'd for a post lick fifty spittles,
To feed my envy, lose my victuals,
Be stung by my conscience to the quick,
And then, tor injustice, join Old Nick.
And so, my dear, I wish you good b'ye!
Finds this Case too small for two, in July;
Sists process till some future box day.
