Yes! his will do, I'll ask for it to-morrow; 'Twill save me much vexation, toil, and sorrow. But will it do? Ah, stay! I fear me no! There's something whispers, "Van," this here's no go; 'Tis far too coachy, far too like the drags Of which our noted Oxford builder[6] brags. Indeed, you'd live to hear the judges say, "Good Mr. Sheriff! What's the fare to pay?" Had you that coach; besides, there's Master Phil[7] To poke his fun, as well you know he will. Next the bold captain's cumbersome and old. Old as its owner, Rattletrappy, cold; 'Twon't do! but now, I think me, Mr. Reade[8] Of Ipsden, he's the man to serve my need. I recollect when I at Ipsden call'd One day last week, with wondering gaze enthrall'd, I spied his carriage standing at the door, New lined, new varnish'd and new painted o'er, Crests, arms, and all the proper blazonry Pomps and achievements, known in heraldry, Cushions well-stuff'd, well padded, and behind A charming footboard, suited to the mind Of any London "figure man" who clings Behind the well-appointed coach, that wings Its course down Bond Street, or the crowded rings Of that proud rendezvous of fashion yclept the Park. And what though arms and crest unlike my own Glare on its surface? who's to make it known,-- No walking Gwyllim, Clarencieux, or Rouge Dragon Infests our streets, to put an envious gag on My borrow'd arms and crests. That I'll rely on. One care's at rest;--but now my liveries claim My next attention, and my thoughts' best aim: What shall the coats be? blue turn'd up with green, And smalls contrived of darkest velveteen? Or green with blue, and (pray don't, Ladies, blush,) Continuations built of crimson plush? 'Tis passing hard for one, unskill'd as me In dress, and such-like senseless vanity, Such things to settle--would I had a wife! I never long'd for one so in my life (Not e'en when Jessica's fair hand I pray'd, And struggled hard, with anxious hopes delay'd,) As now, to bid some gorgeous liveries rise To grace my servants and astound the eyes Of wondering freshmen, javelineers, and Dons.[9] I'll to my mother, she can best advise, In coats and smalls she's wonderfully wise (Who says she wears the latter _not_, he lies.) When we've determined what the men shall wear, Then in the shay to Letchworth's we'll repair; He from his hoards of cloth blue, red, and green, Shall rig out liveries such as ne'er were seen. Such are my cares, and oh! I must confess I feel much trembling and sad nervousness; I've suffer'd much anxiety of late, Dread are my prospects, painful is my fate When I consider how the judge to meet! Make a low bow, or fall down at his feet;-- _And then_ my sword! 'twill sure be very queer, Lest it upset me clean I greatly fear-- Powers of Impudence! assist, I pray, Give me some brass, and teach me how to say,-- "Good day, your lordships, welcome to our city."[10]