le live'd below,
Thought it might be as well,
Hearing so many knocks, single and double,
To buy, at his own cost, a street-door bell,
And save confusion, in the house, and trouble;

Whereby his (Isaac's) visitors might know,
Without long waiting in the dirt, and drizzle,
To ring for him at once;--and not to knock for Crow,--
Nor Twizzle.
Besides he now began to feel
The want of it was rather _ungenteel_;
For he had, often, thought it a disgrace
To hear, while sitting in his room, above,
Twizzle's shrill maid, on the first landing-place,
Screaming, "a man below vants Mister Shove!"
The bell was bought; the wire was made to steal
Round the dark stair-case, like a tortur'd eel,--
Twisting, and twining;
The jemmy handle Twizzle's door-post grace'd,
And, just beneath, a brazen plate was place'd,
Lacquer'd and shining;--

Graven whereon, in characters full clear,
And legible, did "Mr. Shove" appear;
And, furthermore, which you might read right well,
Was--"Please to ring the bell."

At half-past ten, precisely to a second,--
Shove, every night, his supper ended;
And sipp'd his glass of negus, till he reckon'd,
By his stop-watch, exactly, one more quarter;
Then, as exactly, he untied one garter;--
A token 'twas that he for bed intended:

Yet having, still, a quarter good before him,
He leisurely undress'd before the fire;
Contriving, as the quarter did expire,
To be as naked as his mother bore him:

Bating his shirt, and night-cap on his head;--
Then, as the watchman bawl'd eleven,
He had one foot in bed,
More certainly than cuckolds go to Heaven.

Alas! what pity 'tis that regularity,
Like Isaac Shove's, is such a rarity!

But there are swilling Wights, in London town,
Term'd--Jolly dogs,--Choice Spirits,--_alias_, Swine,
Who pour, in midnight revel, bumpers down,
Making their throats a thoroughfare for wine.

These spendthrifts, who Life's pleasures, thus, out-run,
Dozing, with head-aches, till the afternoon,
Lose half men's regular estate of Sun,
By borrowing, too largely, of the Moon.

One of this kidney,--Toby Tosspot hight,--
Was coming from the Bedford, late at night:

And being _Bacchi plenus_,--full of wine,--
Although he had a tolerable not