Plucked them all at his ease, in short :- Sympathy! horror! and wonderment ! Hosier's wife led into the Bar; (That's where the best strong waters are!) Followed the tale of the hundred-and-one Ensign (of BRAGG'S) made a terrible clangour: But for the Ladies had drawn his hanger! Robber, of course, was "BEAU BROCADE"; Devonshire DOLLY, plump and red, Spoke it out boldly, staring hard : "Why didn't you shoot then, GEORGE the Guard?" Spoke it out bolder, seeing him mute :— "GEORGE the Guard, why didn't you shoot?" Portly JOHN grew pale and red, Gasped that "DOLLY was surely cracked," (JOHN was afraid of her-that's a fact!) GEORGE the Guard grew red and pale, "Shoot? shoot?" Why - Rabbit him! - didn't he Muttered "The Baggage was far too 'cute!" "Shoot? eye!" Why he'd flashed the pan in his Muttered "She'd pay for it by and by!" Further than this made no reply. Nor could a further reply be made, For GEORGE was in league with "BEAU BROCADE"! And JOHN the Host, in his wakefullest state, Was not-on the whole-immaculate. But nobody's virtue was over-nice When WALPOLE talked of 66 a man and his price"; And wherever Purity found abode, II "Forty" followed to Thirty-nine." Glorious days of the Hanover line! Princes were born, and drums were banged; Now and then batches of Highwaymen hanged. "Glorious news!"-from the Spanish Main; PORTO-BELLO at last was ta'en. "Glorious news!"-for the liquor trade; Nobody dreamed of “BEAU BROCADE." People were thinking of Spanish Crowns; Nobody dreamed of "BEAU BROCADE," (Only DOLLY the Chambermaid !) Blessings on VERNON! Fill up the cans; Money was coming in "Flys" and "Vans." Possibly JOHN the Host had heard; And DOLLY had possibly tidings, too, Plump as ever, but stern of eye, With a fixed intention to warn the "Fly." Lingering only at JOHN his door, Saddling the gray mare, Dumpling Star; Fetching the pistol out of the bar; (The old horse-pistol that, they say, Came from the battle of Malplaquet;) Loading with powder that maids would use, Even in "Forty," to clear the flues; And a couple of silver buttons, the Squire These she wadded-for want of better With the B-SH-P of L-ND-N's "Pastoral Letter"; Looked to the flint, and hung the whole, Thus equipped and accoutred, DOLLY Such was the name of a ruined abode, Thence she thought she might safely try, But, as chance fell out, her rein she drew, By the light of the moon she could see him drest In his famous gold-sprigged tambour vest; And under his silver-gray surtout, The laced, historical coat of blue, |