How your Affairs may stand, I do not know; But here, Sir, Cash does frequently run low. I’ll serve you--don’t be lavish--only mum! Take my Advice, I’ll help you to a Chum.[66] A Gentleman, Sir, see--and hear him speak, With him you’ll pay but fifteen Pence a Week,[67] Yet his Apartments on the Upper Floor,[68] Well-furnished, clean and nice; who’d wish for more? A Gentleman of Wit and Judgement too! Who knows the Place,[69] what’s what, and who is who; My Praise, alas! can’t equal his Deserts; In brief--you’ll find him, Sir, a Man of Parts. Thus, while his fav’rite Friend he recommends, He compasses at once their several Ends; The new-come Guest is pleas’d that he shou’d meet So kind a Chamberlain, a Chum so neat; But, as conversing thus, they nearer come, Behold before his Door the destin’d Chum. Why he stood there, himself you’d scarcely tell, But there he had not stood had Things gone well; Had one poor Half-penny but blest his Fob, } Or if in prospect he had seen a Job, } H’ had strain’d his Credit for a Dram of Bob.[70] } But now, in pensive Mood, with Head downcast, His Eyes transfix’d as tho’ they look’d their last; One Hand his open Bosom lightly held, And one an empty Breeches Pocket fill’d; His Dowlas Shirt no Stock, nor Cravat, bore, And on his Head, no Hat, nor Wig he wore, But a once black shag Cap, surcharg’d with Sweat; His Collar, here a Hole, and there a Pleat, Both grown alike in Colour, that--alack! This neither now was White, nor was that Black, But matched his dirty yellow Beard so true, They form’d a threefold Cast of Brickdust Hue. Meagre his Look, and in his nether Jaw Was stuff’d an eleemosynary Chaw.[71] (Whose Juice serves present Hunger to asswage, Which yet returns again with tenfold Rage.) His Coat, which catch’d the Droppings from his Chin, Was clos’d, at Bottom, with a Corking Pin; * * * * * Loose were his Knee-bands, and unty’d his Hose, Coax’d[72] in the Heel, in pulling o’er his Toes; Which, spite of all his circumspective Care, Did thro’ his broken, dirty Shoes appear. Just in this hapless Trim, and pensive Plight, The old Collegian[73] stood confess’d to Sight; Whom, when our new-come Guest at first beheld, He started back, with great Amazement fill’d; Turns to the Chamberlain, says, Bless my Eyes! } Is this the Man you told me was so nice? } I meant, his Room was so, Sir, he replies; } The Man is now in Dishabille and Dirt, He shaves To-morrow, tho’, and turns his Shirt; Stand not at Distance, I’ll present you--Come, My Friend, how is’t? I’ve brought you here a Chum; One that’s a Gentleman; a worthy Man, And you’ll oblige me, serve him all you can.