ut
The same thing: there they flogged, flayed, buffeted, lanced with
knives,
Pricked him with swords,--I'll swear, he'd full a cat's nine lives,--
So to his end at last came Faithful,--ha, ha, he!
Who holds the highest card? for there stands hid, you see,
Behind the rabble-rout, a chariot, pair and all:
He's in, he's off, he's up, through clouds, at trumpet-call,
Carried the nearest way to Heaven-gate! Odds my life--
Has nobody a sword to spare? not even a knife?
Then hang me, draw and quarter! Tab--do the same by her!
O Master Worldly-Wiseman ... that's Master Interpreter,
Take the will, not the deed! Our gibbet's handy close:
Forestall Last Judgment-Day! Be kindly, not morose!
There wants no earthly judge-and-jurying: here we stand--
Sentence our guilty selves: so, hang us out of hand!
Make haste for pity's sake! A single moment's loss
Means--Satan's lord once more: his whisper shoots across
All singing in my heart, all praying in my brain,
'It comes of heat and beer!'--hark how he guffaws plain!
'To-morrow you'll wake bright, and, in a safe skin, hug
Your sound selves, Tab and you, over a foaming jug!
You've had such qualms before, time out of mind!' He's right!
Did not we kick and cuff and curse away, that night,
When home we blindly reeled, and left poor humpback Joe
I' the lurch to pay for what ... somebody did, you know!
Both of us maundered then 'Lame humpback,--never more
Will he come limping, drain his tankard at our door!
He'll swing, while--somebody....' Says Tab, 'No, for I'll peach!'
'I'm for you, Tab,' cries I, 'there's rope enough for each!'
So blubbered we, and bussed, and went to bed upon
The grace of Tab's good thought: by morning, all was gone!
We laughed--'What's life to him, a cripple of no account?'
Oh, waves increase around--I feel them mount and mount!
Hang us! To-morrow brings Tom Bearward with his bears:
One new black-muzzled brute beats Sackerson, he swears:
(Sackerson, for my money!) And, baiting o'er, the Brawl
They lead on Turner's Patch,--lads, lasses, up tails all,--
I'm i' the thick o' the throng! That means the Iron Cage,
--Means the Lost Man inside! Where's hope for such as wage
War against light? Light's left, light's here, I hold light still,
So does Tab--make but haste to hang us both! You will?"

I promi