On Du Bois, born in a baggage-wagon, and killed in a duel.
Begot in a cart, in a cart first drew breath,
Carte and tierce was his life, and a carte was his death.
On a Publican.
A jolly landlord once was I,
And kept the Old King's Head hard by,
Sold mead and gin, cider and beer,
And eke all other kinds of cheer,
Till Death my license took away,
And put me in this house of clay: