At last, the glorious number to complete,
Steps in my landlord for that bodkin seat;
When soon, by ev’ry hillock, rut, and stone,
Into each other’s face by turns we’re thrown.
This grandam scolds, that coughs, the captain swears,
The fair one screams and has a thousand fears;
While our plump landlord, train’d in other lore,
Slumbers at ease, nor yet asham’d to snore;
And Master Dicky, in his mother’s lap,
Squalling, at once brings up three meals of pap.