BANKRUPTCY RENDERED EASY.The Cit, relying on his trade,Which, like all other things, may fade,Longs for a curricle and villa:This Hatchet splendidly supplies,The other Cock’ril builds, or buys,To charm himself and Miss Hautilla.Then swift, O London! he retires,To be, from all thy smoke and spires,From Saturday till Sunday, merry:On Sunday crowds of friends attend;His house and garden some commend,And all admire his port and sherry.His mistress urg’d him now to play,And cut to wealth a shorter way,Now as a bride she heads his table;But still our Cit observ’d his time.Returning at St. Cripple’s chime,At least as near as he was able.But soonshecould not bear the sightOf town; for walls with bow’rs unite,As well as smoke with country breezes;Without the keenest grief and prideHecould not quit hismares, andbride:We yield as soon as passion seizes.The clock no more his herald prov’d;Tuesday, nay Wednesday, morn have mov’d,Ere trembling shopmen saw their master:Observing neighbours whisper’d round,That ease might do, with plenty crown’d;If not, that ruin came the faster.His cash grew scarce, his business still,At variance were his books and till(For wolves devour when shepherds slumber);His creditors around him pour,Seize all his horses, household store,And only give him up the lumber!
The Cit, relying on his trade,Which, like all other things, may fade,Longs for a curricle and villa:This Hatchet splendidly supplies,The other Cock’ril builds, or buys,To charm himself and Miss Hautilla.Then swift, O London! he retires,To be, from all thy smoke and spires,From Saturday till Sunday, merry:On Sunday crowds of friends attend;His house and garden some commend,And all admire his port and sherry.His mistress urg’d him now to play,And cut to wealth a shorter way,Now as a bride she heads his table;But still our Cit observ’d his time.Returning at St. Cripple’s chime,At least as near as he was able.But soonshecould not bear the sightOf town; for walls with bow’rs unite,As well as smoke with country breezes;Without the keenest grief and prideHecould not quit hismares, andbride:We yield as soon as passion seizes.The clock no more his herald prov’d;Tuesday, nay Wednesday, morn have mov’d,Ere trembling shopmen saw their master:Observing neighbours whisper’d round,That ease might do, with plenty crown’d;If not, that ruin came the faster.His cash grew scarce, his business still,At variance were his books and till(For wolves devour when shepherds slumber);His creditors around him pour,Seize all his horses, household store,And only give him up the lumber!