Can't you find some poor
gentleman of Wales, to take this precious commodity off the hands
of
Yours,
MATT. BRAMBLE
BATH, May 19.
To Dr LEWIS.
DOCTER LEWS,
Give me leaf to tell you, methinks you mought employ your talons
better, than to encourage servants to pillage their masters. I
find by Gwyllim, that Villiams has got my skin; for which he is
an impotent rascal. He has not only got my skin, but, moreover,
my butter-milk to fatten his pigs; and, I suppose, the next thing
he gets, will be my pad to carry his daughter to church and fair:
Roger gets this, and Roger gets that; but I'd have you to know, I
won't be rogered at this rate by any ragmatical fellow in the
kingdom -- And I am surprised, docter Lews, you would offer to put
my affairs in composition with the refuge and skim of the hearth.
I have toiled and moyled to a good purpuss, for the advantage of
Matt's family, if I can't safe as much owl as will make me an
under petticoat. As for the butter-milk, ne'er a pig in the
parish shall thrust his snout in it, with my good-will. There's a
famous physician at the Hot Well, that prescribes it to his
patience, when the case is consumptive; and the Scots and Irish
have begun to drink it already, in such quantities, that there is
not a drop left for the hogs in the whole neighbourhood of
Bristol.
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