There's something in it not judicious."
Then for new suits you feel his pulse,
The measure answers,—"Send for Stultz!"
"Our stock of boots is far from nobby:"
"Well! where the d——l, sir, is Hoby?"
Get but the measure of his foot,
You've clothes, wigs, jewels, all 'to boot!'
The more you crave the more he's Frank for't,
Though chiefly you've yourself to thank for't.
Thus whilst whole cargoes you command,