University of Virginia Library

---

49

Epistle FROM MASTER CAUSTON, THE FORTUNATE YOUTH, TO MISS CARABOO, IN AMERICA.

But first you will doubtless expect me to name
The deeds upon which I establish my claim,

---

50

Those accomplish'd deceits of the tongue and the pen,
Which have dazzled the judgments of women and men;
Those talents which make me so bold as to sue
For the hand and affections of Miss Caraboo.
You must know I invented a plausible tale
Respecting a trip in the Shrewsbury mail,
And an elderly gentleman meeting me there,
Who gave me his chattels and made me his heir.
My wealth was enormous—estates I possess'd
In the north, in the south, in the east, in the west;
My arable lands did all others surpass,
And my silver and gold nearly equal'd my brass;
My credit was great, though so strange my account,
The world gave me credit to any amount;
And the fame of my acres so far did extend
That no one could calculate where they would end.
I mortgages claim'd too, on many pretences,
And those who believed must have mortgaged their senses;

---

51

Perhaps they imagined my talents were such,
I, like Midas, could magnify gold with a touch;
Or supposed, when my wonderful story was known,
Its foundation was on the Philosopher's Stone.

What is strange, though they all had been cheated by you,
I trod in your footsteps and cheated them too;
And though of our separate plans they complain,
As Partners, ere long, we may cheat them again;
For believe me, my dear, I'm convinced if you chose
To pretend you could see through the tip of your nose,
'Tis certain, their stock of discretion's so small,
They'd be led by the nose, and would credit it all.
Though my lucrative schemes are discover'd at last,
Though the days of my splendid delusions are past;

---

52

Though the Cheques on my Banker no longer appear,—
As my Banker unluckily check'd my career;
Though neither my cash nor my acres remain,
Oh! turn not away from my suit with disdain;
Together, our moments can never be rough,
Our wits, without doubt, will be fortune enough.
Besides, there are some mighty men in the land
Who always take suffering worth by the hand;
Of course they'll assist us, for since it is known
They have raised a subscription for good Mr. Hone,
Let's be easy, my dear, there'll surely be one
To recompense us for the good we have done;
In praise of our virtue they'll make long orations,
And, what is much better, produce large donations;
And whilst all our manifold claims they're disclosing,
They may swear that our virtues were very imposing.