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costermonger to strike his moke vhen he von't kemarp, vy then I says guilty, and think I've no cause to cry stinking fish.
Mag. You pleads guilty, then? Let me as a jolly good trump of a beak, vot I is, adwise you to eat your vords. At all events, chance your luck on a proper hexamination.
Bill. I leaves that ere chance to your vorship's own breasts ; if they have not a vord for poor Bill, vy I ain't got dimmock to employ a lawyer :
Mag. You von't go back then ?
Mag. Brother Beak, nothing more is left for us to do nor to consider on the amount o' the fine. Although the case o' the unfortunate costermonger admits of a little pity, still, for the proper diffusion of the milk of humane kindness—as the immortal Blackstone says-amongst the bullock boys and donkeymen of the metropolis, any wood winking or learning for’ard on our parts vould set a bad hexample, and I fears can't be yielded to. Gennemen, am you made up your minds as to the verdic? Guilty? It remains, then, for me to force the penalty. Prisoner, does not von of your cronies come for'ard to speak to your carrotter ? Am you no von ?
Bill. Not von, your vorship ; I didn't go for to think to ax em ; but let them choioick, and, may I never die in child-bed, if from one end of Kent-street to t'other, you can find a kid to say nothink agin me. Mag. Sing out for vitnesses!
(Enter First Witness.) What am you?
Wit. A coal-heaver, your vorship.
Wit. Know, your vorship! that he's the humanest man as ever skinned a heel—the first at Billingsgate in a morning, the last to go to roost at dark ; von as
never vos thought nothing else nor a trump; he deals in the freshest mackerel and the largest sprats ; for buying and selling to the best advantage, give me Bill Finch before any kid in Kent-street.
May. But vot knows you on his moral carrotter ?
Wit. His maw-maw-ale carrotter, your vorship? vy he plays at shove-ha'penny like a cock. Mag. Are there any more vitnesses ?
(Another Witness comes forward.) Vot knows you on the prisoner ?
Wit. Nothing but good, my lorthur.
Wit. Not never but once, my lorthur ; and that ere vos for a shindy, vhen ve vos both lushy.
Mag. Vot else do you know ?
Wit. Vy, as this here, my lorthur-if he goes to the mill, they von't make him vork hard.
Mag. Am you nothing else to show ? Did he not never do no great nor mag-nanny-mous action ?
Wit. Do any who, my lorthur ? Ye Yes. twice floored his grandmother, and twice put his old blind father into a vater butt!
Mag. Am there any more vitnesses ?
Bill. Your Vorship, I feels as if I had the barnacles on, or stood in the stocks, to stand here and listen to yarns about a carrotter, and all that ere. If you doesn't think I'm a trump, vy it's no more use than taking coals to Newcastle to patter here.
Mag. Gennemen, is your opinion still unshook'd ? Prisoner, what am you to say vy the full penalty of forty hog should not be levelled a-top on you ? If you is got nothing to offer, now is the time to launch out.
Bill. In a moment, your vorship—in a moment. [Blowing his nose.] Damn it, my nose is rather troublesome. Your vorship I had been three months to the mill for a 'sault, and my donkey-as good a von to go as ever was seen-had not done no work all that ere time. I had come home as frisky as a fly in a
He treacle-pot. I found Sarah-that's my voman, your vorship--with all her toggery up the flue, but rummy all other rags. Vell, your vorship, I inwited my pals to a bit of a blow out, and vhen ve vos all as merry as a lot o'chummies on a May-day, there comes in a cove to say there vos a glut o' mackerel down at the Gate. I hampered my moke, and set off vi' the bags to lay in a dollop. I hadn't got furder nor the t'other side o' Smiffel, vhen my donkey got his leg in a plughole. I ups vi' my bit of ash-shewing a stick about the size of a rolling-pin]— to him, and velted avay on his behind as long as I vos able ; vhen up comes a covee, and begins to preach a sarmint about cruelty to the hanimal. I never stowed it-never stopped. Vould any o'your vorships? Jolly good luck to you and your vomen, says I! Vould any o' your vorships ha’struck a donkey, as if you'd been going to kill a flea or a bug? No, you vouldn't! You'd ha' done as I did. And vot did I? vy, I vopp'd the donkey like a sack ; and had your vorship been the donkey-you're ass enough-so help me tatur, I'd ha' done it.
TO MY STICK.
ATTEND my muse, and with thee bring
There ! gallop on with might and main,
My Stick. In every clime, in every age, Or saint or savage, sot or sage, Man leans on thee, in every stage,
His Stick. When Satan for his sins was driven Forth from the eternal joys of heaven, We read that unto him was given
A Stick. The tallest pine was but a wand Compared to that he took in hand, To help him o'er the burning strand,
His Stick. With what did Balaam smite his ass? What pledge gave Judah, too? alas, What stretch'd poor Abel on the grass ?
A Stick. The Preacher says" thy son chastise, Or he will thee;" again he criesSpare not the rod," and rod implies
A Stick. In infancy, what was my pride ? What was't for which I often cried ? What did I saddle, mount, and ride ?
My Stick. And when my tardy teens began, I flourish'd oft my gay rattan ; Thou grac'd me while I aped the man,
With tight-laced stays and hair in curls,
My Stick. Carousing at some midnight revel, If any dared to prove uncivil, We were the boys to play the devil,
My Stick. What stands my friend in bloody fray ? What cheers me on my lonely way! What keeps the yelping curs at bay?
My Stick. Thou help’st me through mud and mire, Thou mak'st me stand six inches higher, With thee I lord it like a squire,
My Stick. Theatre, market, church, or fair, Wherever I am, thou art there, Ev’n children cry—there goes a pair
Of Sticks. Thou giv'st an air of consequence, Thou štamp'st me as a man of sense, Yet costs but six or seven pence,
My Stick. What makes me, when with whisky toddy I'm drunk and stupid as a noddy, Walk home like any sober body,
My Stick. With taper, straight, well-polished stem, And graceful curve, thou art a gem To decorate a diadem,