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No Auditor e'er found him in the wrong.
A good Accomptant; tho' his Bills were long
Well judg’d he by the Drought, and by the Rain,
The future Product of his Seed and Grain.
He kept due Tale of Oxen, Sheep and Swine,
His Lord's MarchBeer,and his more precious Wine;
All Rents receiv'd, for all things did ingage,
And manag’d since his Master came to Age.
O'er ev'ry Under-Baily he had Spies,
Knew all their Cunning, all their Knaveries:
His House lay tight, and kept in good Repair,
Beside a Heath, and in a healthy Air; 4.
Clofe in a Corner, couch'd behind a Row
Of spreading Trees; the Building fnug and low,
The Man was warm, with Wealth in private stor'd,
And abler far to purchase than his Lord.
He knew his Honour's Humour to a Hair,
When it was fit to ask, or to forbear.


Whene'er his Lordship wanted a Supply,
He with a bufie careful Face would fly;
Run here and there ; then bring theLuggage home,
And only help his Master to his own.
He (as those generous Lords are us’d to do)
Not only thanks him, but rewards him too.
Thịs Steward rode upon a sturdy Jade,
And on his Side he wore a rusty Blade.
A Wheelwright he had been, in Norfolk known,
In all the Villages near Baldfwell Town:
Tuck'd round his Waste like any Fry’ar was he,
And ftill rode hindmost of the Company,

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The Sumner, or Apparilor.

This Sumner was not over-stock'd with Grace; He had a bloated, broad, Cherubic Face; Of fiery Hue; with hollow Eyes and narrow ; Red as a Cock, and Letch’rous as a Sparrow,


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Black were his Eye-brows, bristled was his Beard,
And much the Children his stern Visage fear'd.
His Nose with Carbuncles was overspread,
His Cheeks with white Whelks,on a ground of Red.
No inward Med'cine he could e'er procuré,
Had Pow'r sufficient to effect their Cure.
Not new kill'J Quick-silver with Ceruse too,
Brimstone, nor Oil of Tartar, ought cou'd do.
Strong bloody Wine he lov'd, and well-dress’dFish,
And stunk of Garlick like a Spanish Dish:
When he was Drunk, he'd talk a Man to Death,
And belch out Latin with unfavoury Breath.
Two or three common Fragments he could say;
No wonder, for he heard it all the Day:
But if you press’d him farther, you might see
A sudden end of his Philosophy.
A leud young Fellow, for a Quart of Wine,
Might for a Twelve-month have his Concubine.


He taught his loofe Companions in their Sport,
T'evade the Censure of th’Arch-deacon's Court:
But if a rich libidinous Prize he found,
Him he inclos'd within his bawdy Pound.
This, as no vulgar Secret he would tell,
A large full Purse is the Arch-deacou's Hello
If rich Mens Souls within their Purses lie,
'Tis just their Sins be punish'd there, say I.
To him all Wenches in the Bishop's See
Paid publick Tribute, or a private Fee.
Boldly he rode, a Garland on his Head;
Of all unmarried Men and Maids, the Dread.

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The Pardoner.

A Pardon-monger last brought up the Rear,
With Patriarchal Face, and Holy Leer:
His Hair was of the Hue of yellow Wax,
Straight and unequal as a ftrieke of Flax,

Yet long, and thin it grew from his large Head,
And all his brawny Shoulders over-spread,
Divided into parcels here and there:
No gaudy Hood conceal'd his golden Hair ;
For that, with Care, was in his Wallet laid, i
Where many Curiosities he had.
Except a little Cap, he rode all bare;
With glaring Eyes, like a new started Hare.
A holy Figure ftich'd upon

his Cap;
His Wallet hung before him on his Lap,
Stuffd and cram'd full of Pardons, newly come,
For greedy Zealots, piping hot from Rome.

Shrill was his Voice as any Mountain Goat,
Aloud he said his Orisons by rote:
A Beard he never had, nor e'er will have,
No Barber took the Pains that Chin to shave:
He might have been a Gelding, or a Mare;
But never sure from Barwick even to Wareg


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