“Is then the Warren stopp’d and has Day broke?
Go to the scraper! to the door-mat run!
Our Turkey’s getting rather overdone.”
Pol.—
And did the scraper clear him from his scrape?
Oph.—
By no means—with a look, black as the crape
Upon his four and ninepenny, he came
And took my hand; and then he press’d the same
Which seem’d to do him good—for then he smil’d—