William had got a private hole to spy
The folks who came with writs, or “How d’ye do?”
Possessing too a penetrating eye
Friends from his foes the Quaker quickly knew.
A bailiff in disguise, one day,
Though not disguised to our friend Will,
Came, to Will’s shoulder compliments to pay,
Concealed, the catchpole thought, with wondrous skill.
Boldly he knocked at William’s door,
Drest like a gentleman from top to toe,