“The epitaph is ready:-

         ’Here
lies one whom all his friends did fear
   more than they ever feared the lord;
in peace he was at times A Christian;
in strife, what STUBBORNER Philistine! 
   Sing, sing his psalm with one Accord.

“’And he who lent my lord his wife
Has but a very ticklish life;
   Although she won him many a hundred,
’T won’t do; none comes with briefs and wills,
And all her gainings are gilt pills
   From the sick madman that she plundered.

“’And the brave lad who sent the bluff
Olive-faced Frenchman (sure enough)
   Screaming and scouring like a plover,
Must follow—­him I mean who dash’d
Into the water and then thrash’d
   The cullion past the town of Dover.

“’But first there goes the blear old dame
Who nurs’d me; you have heard her name,
   No doubt, at Compton, Sarah Salways;
There are twelve groats at once, beside
The frying-pan in which she fried
   Her pancakes. 
      Madam, I am always, etc.,
         Sir Thomas Lucy, Knight.’

“I did believe that such a clear and conscientious exposure of my affairs would have brought me a like return.  My letter was sent back to me with small courtesy.  It may be there was no paper in the house, or none equalling mine in whiteness.  No notice was taken of the rent-roll; but between the second and third stanza these four lines were written, in a very fine hand:-

“’Most honour’d knight, Sir Thomas! two
For merry Nan will never do;
Now under favour let me say ’t,
She will bring more herself than that.’

I have reason to believe that the worthy lady did neither write nor countenance the same, perhaps did not ever know of them.  She always had at her elbow one who jogged it when he listed, and although he could not overrule the daughter, he took especial care that none other should remove her from his tutelage, even when she had fairly grown up to woman’s estate.

“Now, after all this condescension and confidence, promise me, good lad, promise that thou wilt not edge and elbow me.  Never let it be said, when people say, sir Thomas was A poet when he will edit,—­so is Bill Shakspeare!  It beseemeth not that our names do go together cheek by jowl in this familiar fashion, like an old beagle and a whelp, in couples, where if the one would, the other would not.”

Sir Silas.

“Sir, while these thoughts are passing in your mind, remember there is another pair of couples out of which it would be as well to keep the cur’s neck.”