_H._ Greedy Collector, well I know your business, ’tis for my taxes you are come to dun me; well! ’tis the last time you will have a right to ask me for money. Buggy, no longer do I drive a smart one; smash went my gig, as long [ago] as Easter; down Highgate hill we tumbled altogether, horse, wife, and I, Sir. One broke his knees, and[23] another broke his collar-bone; there’s an end of pleasuring on Sundays. Take my last payment; there is your two pounds twelve shillings and ninepence. _C._ Gentle householder, much are you mistaken; Order, Religion, Constitution, Laws, and rational freedom, all demand from you a—triple assessment. _H._ Triple Assessment! What beside the old tax? _C._ Certainly: come, deposit, I’m a waiting. _H._ Wait and be damned. What is it you are after? _C._ Ten pounds eleven. _H._ Ten pounds eleven! have I not informed thee gig I have none? I’ve sent it to the hammer; Pay for a gig and not [to] have it! _C._ But you had one at Easter! _H._ Easter is past and gone. I’ll never pay thee. _C._ Gentle Householder, then I must proceed to shew thee a little bit of parchment, called a writ of distringer [for _distringas_]. [_Exit_ Collector to take possession of the Householder’s bed and furniture. The verses which we here present to the public were written immediately after the Revolution of the 4th of September. We should be much obliged to any of our classical and loyal correspondents for an English translation of them. LATIN VERSES _Written immediately after the Revolution of the 4th of September._ Ipsa mali Hortatrix scelerumque uberrima Mater In se prima suos vertit lymphata furores, Luctaturque diù secum, et conatibus ægris Fessa cadit, proprioque jacet labefacta veneno. Mox tamen ipsius rursúm violentia morbi Erigit ardentem furiis, ultróque minantem Spargere bella procul, vastæque incendia cladis, Civilesque agitare faces, totumque per orbem Sceptra super Regum et Populorum subdita colla Ferre pedem, et sanctas Regnorum evertere sedes. Aspicis! Ipsa sui bacchatur sanguine Regis, Barbaraque ostentans feralis signa triumphi, Mole giganteâ campis prorumpit apertis, Successu scelerum, atque insanis viribus audax. At quà Pestis atrox rapido se turbine vertit, Cernis ibi, priscâ morum compage solutâ, Procubuisse solo civilis fœdera vitæ, Et quodcunque Fides, quodcunque habet alma verendi Religio, Pietasque et Legum fræna sacrarum.