To this the doctor sage agreed, The office then was duly fee'd, And sign'd and seal'd each formal deed. Now Death, who sometimes loves to wait At an insurance office gate, To baffle the accountant's skill And mock the calculating quill, Had just prepar'd his cunning dart To pierce _Ned Freeman's_ tranquil heart: But lest the stroke should cause dispute, And lawyers conjure up a suit, Death was determined to delay _Ned's_ exit to a future day; And the dull moment to amuse, He turn'd and kill'd a pair of Jews. Thus was the husband's life insur'd, And the wife's future wealth secur'd. But _Death_ had not forgot his fiat, So bid a fever set him quiet; And ere, alas, ten days were past, Honest Ned Freeman breath'd his last. The doctor call'd to certify His glowing health now saw him die. Thus she who lately came to town With not a doit that was her own, Weeping attends her husband's hearse, With many a thousand in her purse, And proves that she's of wives the best Who knows her _real interest_. Plate 20. _The Schoolmaster._ Death with his dart proceeds to flog Th' astonished, flogging pedagogue. The learned schoolmaster, whose years have reached a respectable longevity, is surprised in the midst of his tasks, while training the minds of the youths around him, to discover the grim skeleton Death, _mors pulsat_, concerning whose approach he is well stored with classic instances, seated astride of the terrestrial globe, to the consternation of the scared and flying scholars. The well-read pedagogue is inclined to give his visitor a lesson from Horace in good manners. That he at least should knock, and wait Till some one opes th' unwilling gate. To which Death retorts in reply:-- Doctor, this dart will neither speak In Hebrew, Latin, or in Greek, But has a certain language known In ev'ry age as in our own. The pale spectre proceeds to remind his charge of the prolonged allowance of life which has been allotted to the pedagogue, although he finds his years have proved too short to allow him to complete the legacy of learning it was his fond ambition to leave behind him. The doctor, who seems a kindly preceptor, and one whose self-composure it is difficult to disturb, while resigning his mind to his own fate, is interceding for his pupils. 'But you'll at least these urchins spare, They are my last, my only care.' 'I'll hurt them not, I'll only scare 'em: So die, and _Mors est finis rerum_, Which, for your scholars, I'll translate, Death strikes the learn'd, the little, and the great!' Plate 21. _The Coquette._ I'll lead you to the splendid crowd: But your next dress will be a shroud.