Ralph. Most Enigmatical, Problematical, Emphatical, and Emblematical—for a Night-Rail being a kind of a Cloak, was most proper to cover a piece of Knavery.
Will. To hide his lower parts, the Fishmongers lent him their Aprons.
Ralph. More Enigmatical still.—For Fishmongers being men of Lent and Fasting days—the Fishmongers' Aprons were to put the Ghost in mind of his sorrow, contrition, and repentance for owning a Speech that was none of own.
Will. By your favour, Sir, here's a Breach of an Act of Parliament discovered, to bring a Spirit out of his Grave in Linnen, whereas he ought to have appear'd in Crape; and being a Lord in Lac't Crape too.
Ralph. Well! But what had the Goblin about his Head?
Will. His head was muffl'd up in a White Diaper Napkin—to shew that the Letter was drapered with the Inventions of several Writers, and not of one plain Woofe.
Ralph. Shame faw the Luggs on 'em for a Company of Dotards—as if the Devil were grown as fantastical as the French, to change his old fashions.—Now the old fashions of Ghosts, ever since I heard of Ghosts was always the same, a Winding-sheet with two Knots and a Taper in the Spirit's hands, with which the Chandler might easily have furnished the Devil. Or if the Spirit must needs rise in the same Cloaths he was burr'd, the Cabal had much better ha' club'd for a new Crape Funeral Suit—'Twould ha' serv'd the Goblin of a Vintner another time, when the juice of his own Lime-Fats had burnt up his Liver. I'le undertake there's ne're a Booth in Pork Fair but would have dressed up a Hobgoblin more artificially than such a consultation of Ninny Hammers—But when the Devil was thus betrumpery'd what did he do?
Will. In this Mere-maid's Attire, he went attended with the two Fishmongers for his Guard, and the Chandler and Printer were to be Witnesses they saw the Apparition.—At length when he came to his Posts, as the Contrivers had laid it, 'tis to be supposed, near the House where the Lord Russel liv'd, he fell a groaning like an Oxe at the first sticking; nay, he groan'd even like the Groaning-board itself; and after a short preamble of Lamentations lewdly uttered, He cried out, Oh—I have no rest because of the Speech that I never made, but Dr. Burnet.
Ralph. There's no fear on't, but he'l be taught to groan better when he comes to groan for himself. One would have thought he should have practised the Art of Groaning more accurately before he went to groan upon such an Occasion as this—He should have groaned as if he had been groaning for his Life, that had taken such a part upon him—but it seems he rather fell a braying then a groaning, and so discover'd himself—for upon the noise, as some Report, or at least, as the Goblin deserv'd, one of the Watch coming up to him, and perceiving by his shoes, that he had no Cloven-Feet, Can't ye be quiet., quo he, in your Grave? I'le make ye quiet; and with that, gave him such a Palt o'th Pate and the Thigh, as quickly chang'd the colour of his Ghostly Habit.
Ralph. I' good faith, the Watchmen did more then all the Committee could do—for they only strove to make him a faigned Goblin, but the Watchman made him a real Raw-Head and Bloody-Bones.—A Catastrophe that such an enterprize justly deserv'd.—But what became of poor Raw-Head and Bloody-Bones?