University of Virginia Library

A City Auctioneer, one Samuel Stubbs,
Did greater execution with his hammer,
Assisted by his puffing clamour,
Than Gog and Magog with their clubs,
Or that great Fee-fa-fum of War,
The Scandinavian Thor,
Did with his mallet, which (see Bryant's
Mythology,) fell'd stoutest giants;—
For Samuel knock'd down houses, churches,
And woods of oak, and elms, and birches,
With greater ease than mad Orlando
Tore the first tree he set his hand to.—
He ought in reason to have raised his own
Lot by knocking others' down.
And had he been content with shaking
His hammer and his hand, and taking
Advantage of what brought him grist, he
Might have been as rich as Christie;—
But somehow when thy midnight bell, Bow,
Sounded along Cheapside its knell,
Our spark was busy in Pall-Mall
Shaking his elbow;—
Marking, with paw upon his mazzard,
The turns of hazard;
Or rattling in a box the dice,
Which seem'd as if a grudge they bore
To Stubbs: for often in a trice,
Down on the nail he was compell'd to pay
All that his hammer brought him in the day,
And sometimes more.
Thus like a male Penelope, our wight
What he had done by day undid by night:
No wonder, therefore, if like her
He was beset by clamorous brutes,
Who crowded round him to prefer
Their several suits.

One Mr. Snipps, the tailor, had the longest
Bill for many suits—of raiment,
And naturally thought he had the strongest
Claim for payment.
But debts of honour must be paid,
Whate'er becomes of debts of trade;
And so our stylish auctioneer,
From month to month throughout the year,
Excuses, falsehoods, pleas, alleges;
Or flatteries, compliments, and pledges,
When in the latter mood one day,
He squeezed his hand, and swore to pay.—
“But when?” “Next month, you may depend on't,
My dearest Snipps, before the end on't;—
Your face proclaims, in every feature,
You wouldn't harm a fellow creature,—
You're a kind soul, I know you are, Snipps.”—
“Ay, so you said six months ago;
But such fine words, I'd have you know,
Butter no parsnips.”
This said, he bade his lawyer draw
A special writ,
Serve it on Stubbs, and follow it
Up with the utmost rigour of the law.

This lawyer was a friend of Stubbs;
That is to say
In a civic way,
Where business interposes not its rubs;
For where the main chance is in question,
Damon leaves Pythias to the stake,
Pylades and Orestes break,
And Alexander cuts Hephæstion;
But when our man of law must sue his friends,
Tenfold politeness made amends.

So when he meets our Auctioneer,
Into his outstretch'd hand he thrust his
Writ, and said with friendly leer,
“My dear, dear Stubbs, pray do me justice;
In this affair I hope you see
No censure can attach to me—
Don't entertain a wrong impression;
I'm doing now what must be done
In my profession.”—
“And so am I,” Stubbs answer'd with a frown;
So crying, “Going—going—going—gone!”
He knock'd him down.