Within the Ward; draws all the parish wills,
Designs the legacies, and strokes the gills
Of the chief mourners; and, whoever lacks,
Of all the kindred, he hath first his blacks.
Thus holds he weddings up and burials,
As his main tithing; with the gossips’ stalls,
Their pews; he’s top still at the public mess;
Comforts the widow and the fatherless,
In funeral sack; sits ’bove the alderman;
For of the wardmote quest, he better can