Saddle my steed, bring forth my boots,
I'll be with them right quick,
And, master sheriff, come you too,
We'll know this scurvy trick.
Lo, yonder doth Earl Harold come,
Did one at table say:
'Tis well, reply'd the mettl'd Duke,
How will he get away?
When thus the Earl began:—Great Duke,
I'll know how this did chance,
Without inviting me:—sure this
You did not learn in France.
One of us two, for this offence,
Under the board shall lie:
I know thee well; a Duke thou art,
So some years hence shall I.
But trust me, Wharton, pity 'twere
So much good wine to spill,
As those companions here may drink,
Ere they have had their fill.
Let thou and I, in bumpers full,
This grand affair decide,
Accurs'd be he, Duke Wharton said,
By whom it is deny'd.
To Andrews, and to Hotham fair,
Then many a pint went round:
And many a gallant gentleman
Lay sick upon the ground.
When, at the last, the Duke found out
He had the Earl secure,
He ply'd him with a full pint-glass,
Which laid him on the floor.
Who never spake more words than these,
After he downwards sunk;
My worthy friends, revenge my fall,
Duke Wharton sees me drunk.
Then, with a groan, Duke Philip held
The sick man by the joint;
And said, Earl Harold, stead of thee,
Would I had drank this pint.