"And so ends the dismal ditty."
"D—n me," cries one, "did ever mortal hear such d—ned stuff?"
"Upon my soul," said another, "I like the last argument well enough. There is some sense in that; for d—n me if I had not rather go to D— g—ss at any time than follow a virtuous b—— for a fortnight."
"Tom," says one of them, "let us set the ditty to music; let us subscribe to have it set by Handel; it will make an excellent oratorio."
"D—n me, Jack," says another, "we'll have it set to a psalm-tune, and we'll sing it next Sunday at St James's church, and I'll bear a bob, d—n me."
"Fie upon it! gentlemen, fie upon it!" said a frier, who came up; "do you think there is any wit and humour in this ribaldry; or, if there were, would it make any atonement for abusing religion and virtue?"
"Heyday!" cries one, "this is a frier in good earnest."
"Whatever I am," said the frier, "I hope at least you are what you appear to be. Heaven forbid, for the sake of our posterity, that you should be gentlemen."
"Jack," cries one, "let us toss the frier in a blanket."
"Me in a blanket?" said the frier: "by the dignity of man, I will twist the neck of every one of you as sure as ever the neck of a dunghill-cock was twisted." At which words he pulled off his mask, and the tremendous majesty of Colonel Bath appeared, from which the bucks fled away as fast as the Trojans heretofore from the face of Achilles. The colonel did not think it worth while to pursue any other of them except him who had the letter in his hand, which the colonel desired to see, and the other delivered, saying it was very much at his service.