ion
Of aiming at progressive motion,
'Twasn't direct,--'twas serpentine,
He work'd, with sinuosities, along,
Like Monsieur Corkscrew worming thro' a Cork;
Not straight, like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don Prong,
A Fork.

At length, with near four bottles in his pate,
He saw the moon shining on Shove's brass plate;
When reading, "Please to ring the bell,"
And being civil, beyond measure,
"Ring it!"--says Toby--"very well;
I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure."

Toby, the kindest soul in all the town,
Gave it a jerk that almost jerk'd it down.

He waited full two minutes; no one came;
He waited full two minutes more; and then,--
Says Toby, "if he's deaf, I'm not to blame;
I'll pull it for the gentleman again."

But the first peal woke Isaac in a fright,
Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head,
Sat on his head's _Antipodes_, in bed,--
Pale as a parsnip,--bolt upright.

At length he, wisely, to himself did say,--
Calming his fears,--
"Tush!--'tis some fool has rung, and run away;"--
When peal the second rattle'd in his ears!

Shove jump'd into the middle of the floor;
And, trembling at each breath of air that stirr'd,
He grope'd down stairs, and open'd the street door,
While Toby was performing peal the third.

Isaac eye'd Toby, fearfully askant,--
And saw he was a strapper,--stout, and tall;
Then, put this question;--"Pray, Sir, what d'ye want?"
Says Toby,--"I want nothing, Sir, at all."

"Want nothing!--Sir, you've pull'd my bell, I vow,
As if you'd jerk it off the wire!"
Quoth Toby,--gravely making him a bow,--
"I pull'd it, Sir, at your desire."

"At mine!"--"Yes, yours--I hope I've done it well;
High time for bed, Sir; I was hast'ning to it;
But if you write up _Please to ring the bell_,
Common politeness makes me stop, and do it."

Isaac, now, waxing wroth apace,
Slamm'd the street door in Toby's face,
With all his might;
And Toby, as he shut it, swore
He was a dirty son of--something more
Than delicacy suffers me to write:
And, lifting up the knocker, gave a knock,
So long, and loud, it might have raise'd the dead;
Twizzle declares his house sustain'd a shock,
Enough to shake his lodgers out of bed.

Toby, his rage thus vented in the rap,
Went serpentining home, to take his