...
Ah! the doctor is loo'd! Come, doctor, put down.'
Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager,
And so bold, and so bold, I'm at last a bold beggar.
Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you're skill'd in,
Whether crimes such as yours should not come before Fielding:
For giving advice that is not worth a straw,
May well be call'd picking of pockets in law;
And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye,
Is, by quinto Elizabeth, Death without Clergy.
What justice, when both to the Old Bailey brought!
By the gods, I'll enjoy it, tho' 'tis but in thought!
Both are plac'd at the bar, with all proper decorum,
With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before 'em;
Both cover their faces with mobs and all that,
But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat.
When uncover'd, a buzz of inquiry runs round,
'Pray what are their crimes?'... 'They've been pilfering found.'
'But, pray, who have they pilfer'd?'... 'A doctor, I hear.'
_'What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that stands near?'_
'The same.'... 'What a pity! how does it surprise one,
_Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on!'_
Then their friends all come round me with cringing and leering,
To melt me to pity, and soften my swearing.
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