Pay attention to these cautions four, And through life you will need little more, Should you dole out your days to threescore Beware of a pistol before! Before! before! Beware of a pistol before! And when backward his ears are inclined, And his tail with his ham is combined, Caution two you will bear in your mind: Beware of a prancer behind! Behind! behind! Beware of a prancer behind! Thirdly, when in the park you may ride, On your best bit of blood, sir, astride, Chatting gay to your old friend's young bride: Beware of a coach at the side! At the side! at the side! Beware of a coach at the side! Lastly, whether in purple or gray, Canter, ranter, grave, solemn, or gay, Whate'er he may do or may say, Beware of a priest every way! Every way! every way! Beware of a priest every way! "Well," said Tom King, "all you can sing or say don't alter my good opinion of the women. Not a secret have I from the girl of my heart. She could have sold me over and over again if she had chosen, but my sweet Sue is not the wench to do that." "It is not too late," said Dick. "Your Delilah may yet hand you over to the Philistines." "Then I shall die in a good cause," said King; "but The Tyburn Tree Has no terrors for me, Let better men swing--I'm at liberty. I shall never come to the scragging-post, unless you turn topsman, Dick Turpin. My nativity has been cast, and the stars have declared I am to die by the hand of my best friend--and that's you--eh? Dick?" "It sounds like it," replied Turpin; "but I advise you not to become too intimate with Jack Ketch. He may prove your best friend, after all." "Why, faith, that's true," replied King, laughing; "and if I must ride backwards up Holborn Hill, I'll do the thing in style, and honest Jack Ketch shall never want his dues. A man should always die game. We none of us know how soon our turn may come; but come when it will, _I_ shall never flinch from it. As the highwayman's life is the fullest of zest, So the highwayman's death is the briefest and best; He dies not as other men die, by degrees, But at once! without flinching--and quite at his ease! as the song you are so fond of says. When I die it will not be of consumption. And if the surgeon's knife must come near me, it will be after death. There's some comfort in that reflection, at all events." "True," replied Turpin, "and, with a little alteration, my song would suit you capitally: There is not a king, should you search the world round, So blithe as the king's king, TOM KING, to be found; Dear woman's his empire, each girl is his own, And he'd have a long reign if he'd let 'em alone. Ha, ha!"