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He's gone ( 23 ) Irying their watery eyes with fine cambricka ankerchiefs, having the following motto ngraved on their watch-cafes : gone who made us human shapes, And 1.060 we muſt again turn apes. But to conclude the proceflion: Laſt of all followed a numerous crowd of journeymen aylors, who were all flip.foed, their ſtock. ngs about their heels, their hats off, a ſkein of thread hang careleſsly about their necks; and their ſhirt-collars were open, that they might have liberty to difturb their bofom.. friends. On their left ſleeve was a cuſhion, whereupon fuck abundance of Spanifh and Whitechapel needles. The tails of their wigs were matted like 'horſes' manes, juſt as if they had come off the ſhop-board from work. On their left houlders each had a-long ſtrip of parchment, whereupon was this motto written : The lice bite us, 'tis not deny'd, We bite our maſters when employ'd ; And they bite all the world beſide. At the bottom of Cloth-Fair, the Corpfe was arreſted at the ſuit of an old herb-wo. man, for elevenpence-halfpenny, which had been due a long time to the hag, for cabba- ges and cucumbers, which the deceaſed had in his life-time: However, the journeymen caylors manfully releaſed the Corple, and afterwards marched on in ample proceflion }
