Bayes.Go on! Pox, I don't know where I was, well I'll begin. Here, mind, now they are both come to Town.
But now at Peccadille they arrive,
And taking Coach, t'wards Temple-Bar they drive;
But at St. Clement's Church, eat out the Back;
And slipping through the Palsgrave, bilkt poor Hack.
There's the Utile which ought to be in all Poetry, Many a Young Templer will save his Shilling by this Stratagem of my Mice.
Smith.Why, will any Young Templer eat out the Back of a Coach?
Bayes.No, I'gad, but you'll grant it is mighty natural for a Mouse.
Thence to the Devil, and ask'd if Chanticleer,
Of Clergy kind, or Counsellour Chough was there; Pag. 133.
Or Mr. Dove, a Pigeon of Renown,
By his high Crop, and corny Gizzard known, Pag. 126.
Or Sister Partlet, with the Hooded Head;Pag. 130.
No, Sir. She's hooted hence, said Will, and fled.
Why so? Because she would not pray a-Bed.
Johns. aside.'Sdeath! Who can keep awake at such Stuff? Pray, Mr. Bayes, lend me your Box again.
Bayes.Mr. Johnson, How d'e like that Box? Pray take notice of it, 'twas given me by a Person of Honour for looking over a Paper of Verses; and indeed I put in all the Lines that were worth any thing in the whole Poem. Well, but where were we? Oh! Here they are, just going up Stairs into the Apollo; from whence my White takes occasion to talk very well of Tradition.
Thus
