Reuben and Other Poems by Robert Leighton |
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 | Reuben and Other Poems |  |
186
At length the ladies curtsey and retire,
And John is left hobnobbing with the squire.
“Fill up your glass John; try those sugar'd plums;
Or there's some nuts to exercise your gums.
And, hearken John—believe me if you can—
You are in truth a perfect gentleman.”
And John is left hobnobbing with the squire.
“Fill up your glass John; try those sugar'd plums;
Or there's some nuts to exercise your gums.
And, hearken John—believe me if you can—
You are in truth a perfect gentleman.”
“True, sir, I've often heard your honour say
An honest man, a man that paid his way,
That stood his bets and never sold his vote,
Although reduced to one last threadbare coat,
Was still a gentleman.”
An honest man, a man that paid his way,
That stood his bets and never sold his vote,
Although reduced to one last threadbare coat,
Was still a gentleman.”
“Yes, yes, true, true;
But that's not what I mean; I say that you,
John Skippangoe, plain John, may now aspire
To dub yourself John Skippangoe, Esquire.”
But that's not what I mean; I say that you,
John Skippangoe, plain John, may now aspire
To dub yourself John Skippangoe, Esquire.”
“I've done my duty, sir, that's all I know;
And if it be your will that I must go,
I cannot help it; but, at least, you'll give
Me back my character—a man must live.”
And if it be your will that I must go,
I cannot help it; but, at least, you'll give
Me back my character—a man must live.”
“Your character! pooh, pooh—who spoke of going?
But certainly your character's worth knowing:
A man of most uncommon common sense,
Preserving honour without wasting pence;
An instinct that requires no settled plan,
But does the stroke that makes the prosperous man,
And takes the world for what it really is;
As fit to be my master as I his.”
But certainly your character's worth knowing:
A man of most uncommon common sense,
Preserving honour without wasting pence;
An instinct that requires no settled plan,
But does the stroke that makes the prosperous man,
And takes the world for what it really is;
As fit to be my master as I his.”
“Yes, yes, your honour, I can take a jest;
But, since you've made me in some sort your guest,
I'd be so bold as ask you how it comes
That you and I should meet like equal chums?”
But, since you've made me in some sort your guest,
I'd be so bold as ask you how it comes
That you and I should meet like equal chums?”
187
“Because we are equal, both in means and mind;
Your wisdom have I proved, and now I find
That you are even wealthier than wise;
For, hark ye John, your ticket's won a prize
Of eighty thousand pounds!”
Your wisdom have I proved, and now I find
That you are even wealthier than wise;
For, hark ye John, your ticket's won a prize
Of eighty thousand pounds!”
“Alas, alas,”
Cried John, “that such a thing should come to pass!”
Then fumbled in his pockets, pulled his hair,
And on his master fixed a stupid stare.
Cried John, “that such a thing should come to pass!”
Then fumbled in his pockets, pulled his hair,
And on his master fixed a stupid stare.
“Why, what's the matter? Do you not rejoice?
Your ticket—is it lost? or but your voice?
Confound you, what's the matter? speak, man speak!”
Your ticket—is it lost? or but your voice?
Confound you, what's the matter? speak, man speak!”
John scratch'd his head and said, “One night last week,
While waiting for you at the Opera door,
I dropt into the Bull with two-three more—
All servants, sir—and having no money handy,
I swapt my ticket for a glass of brandy.”
While waiting for you at the Opera door,
I dropt into the Bull with two-three more—
All servants, sir—and having no money handy,
I swapt my ticket for a glass of brandy.”
“O fool! O stupid and enormous ass!
Your ticket—eighty thousand—for a glass!
You blockhead, simpleton, you worse than knave—
Fate made you master, Folly keeps you slave:
Go from my presence!”—and, to seal his doom,
His furious master kick'd him from the room.
Your ticket—eighty thousand—for a glass!
You blockhead, simpleton, you worse than knave—
Fate made you master, Folly keeps you slave:
Go from my presence!”—and, to seal his doom,
His furious master kick'd him from the room.
| Reuben and Other Poems | |