I am one, who is quickly impressed, and won, By measure of courteous act, So deeming it right, to appreciate, In response of appropriate tact, I spake to him thus, "It's rare that a man In a gentleman's dress like thine, Doth care to assist, the frivolous wants, Of a miniature vice like mine, So reckon it not, as a rudeness wrought, Of an ignorant wish to know, But I'd certainly like to learn the name, Of the gent, who has touched me so! Then he glittered a grin, from his cat-like eye, Thro' a coal black lash on me, And he bowed, with his lifted silk top hat, "I'm the Devil himself!" quoth he. Good gracious! yes, I was certainly struck, So suddenly thus to be With the Devil himself! but soon, or late, He was bound to appear to me. So screwing my nerves, to concert pitch, To play up my soul, for wealth, With a supplemental proviso made, For excellent mortal health, I offered to scribble my autograph, In blood, old-storied style, To deed, for a compensating line, From his notable strong room pile. But he looked on me, with a pitying glance, I counted somewhat queer, And answered me thus,--in a friendly way, With a slight sarcastic leer. [Illustration] IT'S a long time, Sir, I assure you, since I endeavoured, to so combine, My games of spoof, for the human soul, In the bartering oofftish line. I suffered by many a measly cheat, When mortals made those sales, You'll read of their shuffling knavish tricks, Thro' the mediæval tales, If you think, that by selling your soul to me, Is the way to get rich, it ain't, You'll have to become, a Devil yourself, In the garb, of a modern Saint. "It's the fashionable way, to play the game, Of hypocritical spoof, You have only to tailor your saintly robe, To cover your tell tale hoof, You have only to hypnotise mankind, And teach them, to gaze on high, And while you have mesmerised them thus, With eyes, to the upward sky,