'Twas whisper'd he'd rob, Nay murder! a job Which would stamp him no "Brick," but a "Regular Snob," (An obsolete term, which, at this time of day, We should probably render by Mauvais Sujet.)
Now if here such affairs Get wind unawares, They are bruited about, doubtless, much more "down stairs," Where Old Nick has a register-office, they say, With Commissioners quite of such matters au fait.
Of course, when he heard What his people averr'd Of Sir Robert's proceedings in deed and in word, He asked for the ledger, and hastened to look At the leaves on the Creditor side of this book.
'Twas with more than surprise That he now ran his eyes O'er the numberless items, oaths, curses, and lies, Et cetera, set down in Sir Robert's account, He was quite "flabbergasted" to see the amount.
"Dear me! this is wrong! It's a great deal too strong, I'd no notion this bill had been standing so long— Send Levybub here!" and he filled up a writ Of "Ca sa," duly prefaced with "Limbo to wit."
"Here Levybub, quick!" To his bailiff, said Nick, "I'm 'ryled,' and 'my dander's up,' 'Go a-head slick' Up to Kent—not Kentuck—and at once fetch away A snob there—I guess that's a Mauvais Sujet.
"One De Birchington, knight— 'Tis not clear quite What his t'other name is—they've not enter'd it right Ralph, Robert, or Richard? they've not gone so far, Our critturs have put it down merely as 'R.'
"But he's tall and upright, About six feet in height, His complexion, I reckon, you'd calculate light, And he's farther 'set down' having ringlets of brown, With a little bald patch oh the top of his crown.
"Then his eye and his lip, Hook-nose, red at tip Are marks your attention can't easily slip; Take Slomanoch with you, he's got a good knack Of soon grabbing his man, and be back in a crack!"
That same afternoon, Father Dick, who as soon Would "knock in" or "cut chapel" as jump o'er the moon, Was missing at vespers—at compline—all night! And his monks were, of course, in a deuce of a fright.