Such the Amusements of this merry Jail,
Which you’ll not reach, if Friends or Money fail;
For e’er it’s threefold Gates it will unfold,
The destin’d Captive must produce some Gold;
Four Guineas at the least for diff’rent Fees,
Compleats your Habeas, and commands the Keys;
Which done, and safely in, no more you’re led,
If you have Cash, you’ll find a Friend and Bed;
But, that deficient, you’ll but ill betide,
Lie in the Hall,[59] perhaps on Common Side.[60]
But now around you gazing Jiggers swarm,[61]
To draw your Picture, that’s their usual Term;
Your Form and Features strictly they survey,
Then leave you (if you can) to run away.
To them succeeds the Chamberlain, to see }
If you and he are likely to agree; }
Whether you’ll tip,[62] and pay you’re Master’s Fee.[63] }
Ask him how much? ‘Tis one Pound, six, and eight;
And, if you want, he’ll not the Twopence bate;
When paid, he puts on an important Face,
And shows Mount-scoundrel[64] for a charming Place;
You stand astonish’d at the darken’d Hole,
Sighing, the Lord have Mercy on my Soul!
And ask, Have you no other Rooms, Sir, pray?
Perhaps inquire what Rent, too, you’re to pay:
Entreating that he would a better seek;
The Rent (cries gruffly) ‘s Half-a-Crown a Week.
The Rooms have all a Price, some good, some bad,
But pleasant ones, at present, can’t be had;
This Room, in my Opinion’s not amiss; }
Then cross his venal Palm with Half a Piece,[65] }
He strait accosts you with another face. }
How your Affairs may stand, I do not know;
But here, Sir, Cash does frequently run low.
I’ll serve you—don’t be lavish—only mum!
Take my Advice, I’ll help you to a Chum.[66]
A Gentleman, Sir, see—and hear him speak,
With him you’ll pay but fifteen Pence a Week,[67]
Yet his Apartments on the Upper Floor,[68]
Well-furnished, clean and nice; who’d wish for more?
A Gentleman of Wit and Judgement too!
Who knows the Place,[69] what’s what, and who is who;
My Praise, alas! can’t equal his Deserts;
In brief—you’ll find him, Sir, a Man of Parts.
Thus, while his fav’rite Friend he recommends,
He compasses at once their several Ends;
The new-come Guest is pleas’d that he shou’d meet
So kind a Chamberlain, a Chum so neat;
But, as conversing thus, they nearer come,
Behold before his Door the destin’d Chum.
Why he stood there, himself you’d scarcely tell,
But there he had not stood had Things gone well;
Had one poor Half-penny but blest his Fob, }
Or if in prospect he had seen a Job, }
H’ had strain’d his Credit for a Dram of Bob.[70] }
But now, in pensive Mood, with Head downcast,
His Eyes transfix’d as tho’ they look’d their last;
One Hand his open Bosom lightly held,
And one an empty Breeches Pocket fill’d;
His Dowlas Shirt no Stock, nor Cravat, bore,
And on his Head, no Hat, nor Wig he wore,
But a once black shag Cap, surcharg’d with Sweat;
His Collar, here a Hole, and there a Pleat,
Both grown alike in Colour, that—alack!
This neither now was White, nor was that Black,
But matched his dirty yellow Beard so true,
They form’d a threefold Cast of Brickdust Hue.
Meagre his Look, and in his nether Jaw
Was stuff’d an eleemosynary Chaw.[71]
(Whose Juice serves present Hunger to asswage,
Which yet returns again with tenfold Rage.)
His Coat, which catch’d the Droppings from his Chin,
Was clos’d, at Bottom, with a Corking Pin;
Loose were his Knee-bands, and unty’d his Hose,
Coax’d[72] in the Heel, in pulling o’er his Toes;
Which, spite of all his circumspective Care,
Did thro’ his broken, dirty Shoes appear.
Just in this hapless Trim, and pensive Plight,
The old Collegian[73] stood confess’d to Sight;
Whom, when our new-come Guest at first beheld,
He started back, with great Amazement fill’d;
Turns to the Chamberlain, says, Bless my Eyes! }
Is this the Man you told me was so nice? }
I meant, his Room was so, Sir, he replies; }
The Man is now in Dishabille and Dirt,
He shaves To-morrow, tho’, and turns his Shirt;
Stand not at Distance, I’ll present you—Come,
My Friend, how is’t? I’ve brought you here a Chum;
One that’s a Gentleman; a worthy Man,
And you’ll oblige me, serve him all you can.
The Chums salute, the old Collegian first,
Bending his Body almost to the Dust;
Upon his Face unusual Smiles appear,
And long-abandon’d Hope his Spirits cheer;
Thought he, Relief’s at hand, and I shall eat; }
Will you walk in, good Sir, and take a seat? }
We have what’s decent here, though not compleat. }
As for myself, I scandalize the Room,
But you’ll consider, Sir, that I’m at Home;
Tho’ had I thought a Stranger to have seen,
I should have ordered Matters to’ve been clean;
But here, amongst ourselves, we never mind,
Borrow or lend—reciprocally kind;
Regard not Dress, tho’, Sir, I have a Friend
Has Shirts enough, and, if you please, I’ll send.
No Ceremony, Sir,—You give me Pain,
I have a clean Shirt, Sir, but have you twain?
Oh yes, and twain to boot, and those twice told,
Besides, I thank my Stars, a Piece of Gold.
Why then, I’ll be so free, Sir, as to borrow,
I mean a Shirt, Sir—only till To-morrow.
You’re welcome, Sir;—I’m glad you are so free;
Then turns the old Collegian round with Glee,
Whispers the Chamberlain with secret Joy,
We live To-night!—I’m sure he’ll pay his Foy;
Turns to his Chum again with Eagerness,
And thus bespeaks him with his best Address:
See, Sir, how pleasant, what a Prospect’s there;
Below you see them sporting on the Bare;
Above, the Sun, Moon, Stars, engage the Eye,
And those Abroad can’t see beyond the Sky;
These Rooms are better far than those beneath,
A clearer Light, a sweeter Air we breathe;
A decent Garden does our Window grace
With Plants untainted, undisturb’d the Glass;
In short, Sir, nothing can be well more sweet;
But I forgot—perhaps you chuse to eat,
Tho’, for my Part, I’ve nothing of my own,
To-day I scraped my Yesterday’s Blade-bone;
But we can send—Ay, Sir, with all my Heart,
(Then, very opportunely, enters Smart[74])
Oh, here’s our Cook, he dresses all Things well;
Will you sup here, or do you chuse the Cell?
There’s mighty good Accommodations there,
Rooms plenty, or a Box in Bartholm’[75] Fair;
There, too, we can divert you, and may show
Some Characters are worth your while to know.
Replies the new Collegian, Nothing more }
I wish to see, be pleas’d to go before; }
And, Smart, provide a handsome Dish for Four. }
But I forget; the Stranger and his Chum,
With t’other two, to Barth’lomew Fair are come;
Where, being seated, and the supper past,
They drink so deep, and put about so fast,
That, e’re the warning Watchman walks about,
With dismal tone Repeating, Who goes out?[76]
Ere St. Paul’s Clock no longer will withold
From striking Ten, and the voice cries—All told;[77]
Ere this, our new Companions, everyone
In roaring Mirth and Wine so far were gone,
That ev’ry Sense from ev’ry Part was fled,
And were with Difficulty got to Bed;
Where, in the Morn, recover’d from his Drink,
The new Collegian may have Time to think;
And recollecting how he spent the Night,
Explore his Pockets, and not find a Doit.