He'd roast and boil'd upon his board; the boast Of half his victims was his boil'd and roast; And these at every hour: --he seldom took Aside his client, till he'd praised his cook; Nor to an office led him, there in pain To give his story and go out again; But first the brandy and the chine where seen, And then the business came by starts between. "Well, if 'tis so, the house to you belongs; But have you money to redress these wrongs? Nay, look not sad, my friend; if you're correct, You'll find the friendship that you'd not expect." If right the man, the house was Swallow's own; If wrong, his kindness and good-will were shown: "Rogue!" "Villain!" "Scoundrel!" cried the losers all: He let them cry, for what would that recall? At length he left us, took a village seat, And like a vulture look'd abroad for meat; The Borough-booty, give it all its praise, Had only served the appetite to raise; But if from simple heirs he drew their land, He might a noble feast at will command; Still he proceeded by his former rules, His bait their pleasures, when he fished for fools - Flagons and haunches on his board were placed, And subtle avarice look'd like thoughtless waste: Most of his friends, though youth from him had fled, Were young, were minors, of their sires in dread; Or those whom widow'd mothers kept in bounds, And check'd their generous rage for steeds and hounds; Or such as travell'd 'cross the land to view A Christian's conflict with a boxing Jew: Some too had run upon Newmarket heath With so much speed that they were out of breath; Others had tasted claret, till they now To humbler port would turn, and knew not how. All these for favours would to Swallow run, Who never sought their thanks for all he'd done; He kindly took them by the hand, then bow'd Politely low, and thus his love avow'd - (For he'd a way that many judged polite, A cunning dog--he'd fawn before he'd bite) - "Observe, my friends, the frailty of our race When age unmans us--let me state a case: There's our friend Rupert--we shall soon redress His present evil--drink to our success - I flatter not; but did you ever see Limbs better turn'd? a prettier boy than he? His senses all acute, his passions such As Nature gave--she never does too much; His the bold wish the cup of joy to drain, And strength to bear it without qualm or pain. "Now view his father as he dozing lies, Whose senses wake not when he opes his eyes; Who slips and shuffles when he means to walk, And lisps and gabbles if he tries to talk; Feeling he's none--he could as soon destroy The earth itself, as aught it holds enjoy; A nurse attends him to lay straight his limbs, Present his gruel, and respect his whims: Now shall this dotard from our hero hold His lands and lordships? Shall he hide his gold! That which he cannot use, and dare not show, And will not give--why longer should he owe? Yet, t'would be murder should we snap the locks, And take the thing he worships from the box;