Get drunk at mess, then sally out To Lisle-street fair, or beat a scout, Or black a waiter's eye. Of all the clubs,--the Clippers, Screws, The Fly-by-nights, Four Horse, and Blues, The Daffy, Snugs, and Peep-o-day, Tom's an elect; at all the Hells, At Bolton-Row, with tip-top swells, And Tat's men, deep he'd play. His debts oft paid by Snyder's{24} pelf, Who paid at last a debt himself, Which all that live must pay. Tom book'd{25} the old one snug inside, Wore sables, look'd demure and sigh'd Some few short hours away; Till from the funeral return'd, Then Tom with expectation burn'd To hear his father's will:-- "Twice twenty thousand pounds in cash,"-- "That's prime," quoth Tom, "to cut a dash "At races or a mill,"-- "All my leaseholds, house and plate, My pictures and freehold estate, I give my darling heir; Not doubting but, as I in trade By careful means this sum have made, He'll double it with care."-- "Ay, that I will, I'll hit the nick, Seven's the main,--here Ned and Dick Bring down my blue and buff; Take off the hatband, banish grief, 'Tis time to turn o'er a new leaf, Sorrow's but idle stuff." Fame, trumpet-tongued, Tom's wealth reports, His name is blazon'd at the courts Of Carlton and the Fives. His equipage, his greys, his dress, His polish'd self, so like _noblesse_, "Is ruin's sure perquise." 24 Flash for tailor. 25 Screwed up in his coffin. ~238~~