University of Virginia Library

The following lines, I do intend,
Shall neither church nor state offend;
But, on the contrair, hope they'll please
Each honest reader who them sees.

A sordid miser here I'll dress,
And squeeze his vice in printer's press.
To lash the vice, conceal the man,
I shall endeavour all I can:
Therefore I'll hide the real name,
Perhaps the wretch I may reclaim;
But if I don't, I in lampoon,
Will scourge his vice thro' all the town:
Yes, thro' the town, and country too,
His character I will pursue!
Ye scriblers of the better sort,
I hope you'll patronize me for't:
For slyly down the net is spread,
To catch Claudero, if he tread
A step upon forbidden ground,
Or write to common metre sound:
Therefore, with Hudibrastic measure,
I hope to shun their grand displeasure.
I never do intend a war
With pulpit, or town-council bar:
Tho' not for love, yet sure for fear,
These two wise poets will revere:
Neither of these dare to deride,
Lest you be term'd a suicide.
Therefore their awful hands I'll kiss,
Because, forsooth, they're major vis.
So, without making more ado,
The miser's vice I will pursue.

Assist me, muse, here to describe
A miser of the notar tribe,
Who does at session time appear,
Summer and winter ev'ry year,
And thereby gathers meikle gear.
Near Bothwell-brig, where rebel Whigs
Lay scatter'd up and down the rigs,
This miser was both born and bred,
And with the herds was fed and clad:
Sour-milk, green whey, and whangs of cheese,
Did mightily this youngster please;
Milk-pottage, sowens, and butter yellow,
Did blow him up a stout big fellow.
He did attend some country schools,
'Till he could rhime Despauter's rules;
Next to the law he did apply,
And learn'd some parts of notary;
And for a notar he does pass,
Tho' some say he's a mighty ass;
Yet in the country he's rever'd
By ev'ry rustic and cock laird,
Whom he doth treat with art and skill,
And lends them cash on bond or bill:
On interest his soul is bent,
And never sleeping annual-rent.
Now I shall briefly shew you here
What ways he takes to gather gear:
A maxim in his head doth run,
That money sav'd is money won;
Maxim secundo hath this man,
To cheat his belly if he can.
The Norland clerks, of thrifty fame,
Compar'd with him are very lame;
Upon Scots pennies twice fifteen
He din'd four clerks from Aberdeen.
Four callour herring he did rost,
Which, with two baps, did two-pence cost;
The baps he halv'd among the four,
Which hunger keen made them devour;
And then, for summing up the haill,
He war'd a baubee upon kaill;
The lads did rift, and were right fain,
All four were din'd like gentlemen.
A watch this notar ne'er would wear,
And herein does his thrift appear:
Computing five pounds for a watch,
Five shillings yearly this would catch;
Repairs to ditto, half a crown,
Capital stock this would draw down;
Therefore he wisely views the sun,
As fowlers eye the murd'ring gun.
To press thro' crouds he's not the fool,
Because his clothes might lose the wool;
And for this reason home he lurches
On holidays from crouded churches.
To step a ditch he takes great care,
Lest he should wrong his breeches there.
For stony road he's much afraid,
Lest his shoes suffer by the tread:
Therefore they're made, for strength and pith,
By country sutor and by smith;
Iron their heels and soles secures:
No city shoes like them endures.
His aged hat, eleven times dress'd,
Upon his head with care is press'd;
Each time 'tis dress'd he does avow,
It looks as well as when first new.
Whene'er he drinks, 'tis with design
That he may gratis sup or dine;
Offals best please him night and day,
Because for those there's nought to pay;
His dinner once did sixpence cost,
Which with vexation did him rost;
He starv'd himself a long time after,
'Till he retriev'd this sad disaster.
He often swears by his lov'd store,
He'll marry none 'till they first whore:
By f---ng one, he says, he'll know
If formerly she us'd to m---;
A skilful plan, he says, indeed,
To get his own wife's maiden head!
But though he's search'd these twenty years
For maiden-heads, yet none appears,
And therefore he does still remain
A batch'lor, aged four times ten:
To thrifty whoring he's inclin'd,
For lust, as well as love, is blind;
Money by him is lov'd so well,
He'd hug Proserpina hersel'
To get or save the root of evil,
And make a cuckold of the devil.
One time, poor wretch, it was his hap,
'Mong other things, to catch a clap:
This was to him a great vexation,
Besides a cursed inflammation;
The sinful member did torment,
Which made him grin, curse and relent;
His testicles did likewise swell,
And shankers made him roar and yell;
Great buboes did his groins adorn,
Which pain'd him sore both night and morn;
A chordee too did him perplex,
And an erection sore him vex.
For surgeons art he did not care;
Fear'd for his p---k, but pocket mair,
He made a shift to treat himself,
And thereby sav'd his darling pelf;
Yet, after all, a gleet remains,
Which will absorb his aged veins.
He oft affects the debauchee,
Thereby to hide his misery,
And horridly will swear and curse,
But very seldom draw his purse,
However, once he got a drub
From members of the corping club,
Where Mad Tam rarely play'd his part,
Which shew'd him master of his art;
Made Notar Creesh drunk like a beast,
Then caus'd him pay dear for his feast;
Besides his well trimm'd coal-black hair
These drunken members did not spare;
Like Samson, robb'd him of his locks,
To complicate their drunken jokes;
Then sent him off in porter's creel:
And some say he deserv'd it well;
But many men of sober mood
Did think this treatment somewhat rude.
His mother dy'd, it vex'd him sore,
'Cause stocking-yarn he'd get no more;
To make up this, with thrift severe,
No mournings for her he would wear,
A borrow'd big-coat wrapt him round
'Till she was laid below the ground:
Into this town it is well known
That a big-coat he ne'er had one;
For in below the pillars glowr,
You'll never miss him in a show'r.
Th'expensive suit he has confin'd
Into his trunk, disturbs his mind;
When at these clothes he takes a view,
The sweat upon him stands like dew,
And is it not a noted knack
That they should sweat him off his back?
The breeches are of velvet scarce,
So will not keek upon his arse;
He hates the taylor as old nick,
And swears he play'd the cloth a trick:
Therefore, I advertising, tell,
These breeches now he wants to sell,
To auction them has set a day,
Whoe'er bids best bears them away.

No heav'n, but wealth, this wretch does know,
For riches he would dwell below:
And, with content, at Pluto's ingle,
His pleasant bags of money jingle;
But, to his torture 'twill conduce,
There his vast sums have no produce;
At which he'll grin, curse, and relent,
For loss of his sweet annual-rent;
With tortures there each miser's cramm'd,
That makes them shock the very damn'd!
Therefore, thou wretch, repent in time
Of this thy miserable crime;
Do deeds of charity, while here,
The gospel this commandeth clear;
Do not with usury oppress
Poor country lairds in their distress;
Pay more respect to words and vows,
Refund the heir of Summer-house,
That GOD himself may bless thy store,
And grant thee his eternal glore.

According to the crambo wark
Of the extemporary clark,
The foresaid lines are not a bauble,
The miser meant is ------;
But, to avoid the fiscal's leesh,
The miser's name is Notar Creesh;
More might be told, sed hoc est satis;
If Creesh recant, I'll print it gratis.