The Works of John Hall-Stevenson :: :: University of Virginia Library

Once on a time, how many years ago,
As I could nivir learn, you cannot know,
A Member of the Parliament,
And a Law-student his relation,
Rode out of town with no intent,
Unless it was for recreation.
Full sixty is the Member, and hath seen
Many a famous King and comely Queen.—
In yvery reign, in yvery age,
He florish'd in prosperitie;
In the beginning was a Page,
Now Privy-Counsellor is he.

His personage is grave and full of state,
Yielding him weight and vantage in debate;
But with a boon-companion gay and free;
No ceremony, no mysterious airs;
Just as a Privy-Counsellor should be,
If he had been a Page of the Back-stairs.
The Student's Father is in perfect health,
Thank God, and waxes daily strong in wealth;
Wants not his son to get a heap,
But just enough of Law
To guard his own estate, and keep
The neighbourhood in awe;
And I dare venture to maintain,
Herein his Father's hopes shall not be vain.
Allbeit, he doth not attend the Courts,
And redith none but Geoffery's Reports;
Yet Plowden lying ever on the table,
Opin and spread,
He is counted full as able,
As if he had him in his head.
So, as I signify'd before, these two
Ride out of town, having nought else to do.

Six miles from town this member hath a box,
For contemplation good;
Where he retires, as thoughtful as an ox
Chewing his cud.
He creeps into his box of stone,
Sometimes for pleasure, oftener for whim:
Or when he is tir'd of every one,
Or every one is tir'd of him.
It is call'd a Box, and there's a reason why,
Because therein a man lays himself by.—
Within a box, if you your cloaths conceal,
The fashion and the worms conspire,
To make a suit, that was genteel,
Fit only for the Sheriff of a shire;
But good enough for you,
If in your box you lie too long perdu.
When you come out again 'twill be too late;
You and your coat will both be out of date.—
Here then they 'light, and now suppose them dining;
Suppose them also grumbling and repining;
The bacon's fusty, and the fowls are tough;
The mutton over-done, the fish not done enough;

The cloth is drawn, the wine before them set;
Wine, like themselves, entirely on the fret:
Muttering their prayers, exchanging looks askew,
Just like two rival beauties in a pew.
What might have happen'd no one can decide,
Had not, by fortune or design,
The Butler in the cellar spy'd
A hoard of admirable wine.
Bounce goes the cork; sparkles the glass;
Cousin, here's to your favourite lass:
And here their purgatory ends;
For after this
They enter into perfect bliss,
Drinking like perfect friends:
Drinking, because drinking promoteth joaking;
Joaking, without insulting or provoking.
The evening finishes with equal glory,
The worthy Counsellor proposing
To make a closing,
By telling each a merry story.
I have one fram'd, says he, in Geoffry's phrase;
Geoffry's, the Courtiers' language of those days.

The Student likes the motion well;
Says he, I'll answer you with one quite new—
My tale in courtly speech I cannot tell;
But I can tell a merry tale, and true.