The Works of Capt. Alex. Radcliffe :: :: University of Virginia Library

Health to my Friends, a terror to my Foes,
Revenging Wrongs, impatient of blows,
Couragious Metal, truest of all Steels,
Sure to thy Master, always at his heels;
Ready to jog him by the Elbow, when
He is confronted by the Sons of Men.
Soul of my Weapon, thou shalt take thy Rest;
And acquiesce within thy Sable Nest,
One Month must fix thee in a certain Station,
Thy Master's Term must prove thine own Vacation:
Till that's expir'd (his Honour be thy Pawn)
Though here thour't hang'd yet thou shalt not be drawn,
Thou shalt not now too late at Night appear,
T'incense the King's Almighty Officer,
Nor vex his Watch, lest by his great Command,
They knock thy Master down, and bid him stand:

117

Nor fly at Mortal wight, though ne're so tall,
Who passing by Surrenders not the Wall,
Nor push at Bayliffs stout denouncing War:
We know no Sergeants now but at the Bar.
They're fix'd (but with such moveable devotion,)
Come when you will, you'l find them in a Motion.
Not willing any Man should be opprest,
'Tis only Judgment that they would Arrest.

Thou shalt not now be bare, when Hector cloaths,
And backs the Lye with rags of swelling Oaths,
Now such great words admit a Period,
He must speak only truth, so help him God;
The Stile is chang'd, (the Season so will have it)
If he will swear, 't must be by Affidavit.

Thou must not now come forth in view, as once,
To fright a Rev'rend Bawd, and build a Sconce,
Nor make a Drawer stand all Night to Skink
Full cups, and watch to fill thy Master Drink,
To rubisie his Cheeks, though when he will,
He can take out a Fieri Facias still.
Or Presidents (if common Writs do fail,)
Direct to me a special Writ of Aile.

118

(Whilom at such a Sign conven'd the Wits;
But now no Sign is known except for Writs)

Thou must forbear a while at Inn and Inn,
T'out-brave whom thou suspectest like to win:
No jogging chance must now blind mortal Eyes,
We'll find fresh Bail of Men and not of Dice.
Pray for an Action now, and not an Ace,
Let every Deuce Produce a Debtor's case:
And in the stead of every Trey that's thrown,
So many Tryals may we call our own.
To cast a Quatre now we must forget,
And call to mind a Quare Impedit.
Each Cinque a Capias, and for every Size
Wish that a Scire Facias may arise.
Now we must think Hazard brings little gain,
Throw a Mandamus rather than a Main;
On certainties 'tis safest to rely,
More's gain'd by Bill, than gotten by the By.
To Play-Houses thou now shalt bid adieu,
Although the Farce be gay enough and new,
Ne're before Acted, brings thee not among
Those that sell Two and Six-pence for a Song.

119

No Idle Scenes fit busie times as these,
Instead of Playes we now converse with Pleas;
And 't's thought the last do savour more of Wit,
For those have Plots to spend, but these to get.

(Give way, Great Shakespear, and immortal Ben,
To Doe and Roe; John Den, and Richard Fen.)
Farewel (dear Sword) thour't prov'd, and laid aside;
Thy youngest Brother, Penknife, must be try'd;
That thou art best, needs but a thin dispute,
Thou woundest skin of Man, he skin of Brute,
'Tis pity such an Urchin long should Reign
To raze a Line, when thou can'st prick a Vein.
'Tis thou can'st make such horrid bloody work
Will fright the Pope, and scare the biggest Turk;
Thy very name will make a Cripple run
Swift as a Courtier from a City Dunn.

Now Tom (in Acres rich, is come to Town)
To change the Title of a Yeoman's Son,
Thou bid'st him kneel, and stroak'st his empty Skul,
And mak'st him rise Sir Thomas Worshipful:
Thus thou mak'st special Knights of common men,
When he hath made his best 'tis but a Pen;

120

Yet such a Pen, that when't has learn't it's Trade,
It may undo the Knight which thou hast made.

That thou art monstrous valiant is too certain,
For instance this, in fine (as saith Sir Martin)
Th' hast kill'd—But soft, some wiser are than some,
I should Marr-all if I discover whom.
In point of Honour this, (deny't who can)
Thou never turn'dst thy Back to any Man:
The short and long on't's thus, I'll safely say,
Though thou should'st break, thou would'st not run away:
Yet 'twould not wound thy credit long, for when
The Term is done, I'll set thee up agen.

Cedant ARma togæ, concedat laurea linguæ.