He knows that rogues and thieves by scores
Nightly beset unguarded doors;
And see how easily might one
Of these domestic foes,
Even beneath your very nose,
Perform his knavish tricks,
Enter your room as I have done,
Blow out your candles--thus--and thus--
Pocket your silver candlesticks,
And walk off--thus.
So said.---so done--he made no more remark,
Nor waited for replies,
But march'd off with his prize,
Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark.
-------
Τ Η Ε Τ Ο Ε.
Once on a time--no matter when--
Whether of recent date, or long ago,
A Potentate, the pride of British men,
Felt direful twinges in his royal toe;
And quick consulted his physicians
Upon the cause of the complaint,
Which certainly was bad enough to vex a saint,
Or make a lady faint.
Ay, or a Parson swear, if giv'n to wrathful ebullitions,
Not that I mean to say, this truly great
And all-accomplish'd Potentate
Did ever swear--far be it from my tongue
To do such mildness and such virtue wrong;
Oh, no! he merely said in accents mild,
(Nay, some assert that, while he spoke, he smiled,)
So very patiently he bore the pain,
"Dear Doctor I am very ill,
The very d---l's in me, I believe;
My toe! my toe!--exert your utmost skill,
And find out something that will quick relieve,
For, oh! the gout has seized my toe again.
The doctor, as in duty bound, look'd sad,
And stooping low,
Peep'd at the toe
Then felt the pulse of his right royal master;
"Indeed," said he, "your Majesty is bad,
And pain, we know, will drive a wise man mad,
