Tormented with landlords and pester'd with care, This life, I protest, is a tedious affair; And, since I have got a few dollars to spare, I'll e'en take a jaunt, for the sake of fresh air. Since the day I return'd to this king-hating shore Where George and his cronies are masters no more, And others are plac'd at the helm of affairs, Relieving the weight of his majesty's cares; For many long weeks, it has still been my doom To sit like a mopus, confin'd to my loom,[B] Whose damnable clatter so addles my brain, That, say what they will, I am forc'd to complain. Our citizens think, when they sit themselves down In the gardens that grow in the skirts of the town, They think they have got in some rural retreat, Where the nymphs of the groves, and the singing birds meet When only a fence shuts them out from the street; With the smoke of the city be-clouding their eyes They sit in their boxes, and look very wise, Take a sip of bad punch, or a glass of sour wine; Conceiting their pleasures are equal to mine, Who rove where I will, and wherever I roam, In spite of new faces, am always at home. Poor Richard, the reel-man, had nothing to say; He knew very well I would have my own way;-- When I said, "My dear Richard, I'm sick of the town, "And Dutchmen that worry me, upstairs and down, "A book of bad debts, and a score of bad smells, "The yelping of dogs, and the chiming of bells; "I am sick of the house, and the sight of small beer, "And the loom may be going, tho' I am not here; "I therefore shall leave you, and that, to be plain, "'Till I feel in a humour to see you again."-- Poor Richard said nothing to all that I spoke, But kindled his pipe, and redoubled his smoke. Yet it would have been nothing but friendship in him To have said,--"Robert Slender, 'tis only a whim:-- A trip to the Schuylkill, that nothing would cost, Might answer your ends, and no time would be lost; But if you are thinking to make a long stay, Consider, good Robert, what people will say: His rent running on, and his loom standing still-- The man will be ruin'd!--he must, if he will--! If tradesmen will always be flaunting about, They may live to repent it--before the year's out!" [B] The stocking-loom was invented by a young man who paid his addresses to a handsome stocking-knitter, and being rejected, in revenge contrived this curious machine, which, it is said, consists of no less than six thousand different pieces. _Freneau's note, 1788 edition._ II. _Characters of the_ TRAVELLERS WILLIAM SNIP, _Merchant Taylor_