ed half inclined, but afraid, to refuse.
"Well, Cuthbert," said he,
"If so it must be,
For you've had your own way from the first time I knew ye;--
Take your curly-wigged brat, and much good may he do ye!
But I'll have in exchange"--here his eye flashed with rage--
"That chap with the buttons--he _gave me_ the Page!"

"Come, come," the saint answered, "you very well know
The young man's no more his than your own to bestow.
Touch one button of his if you dare, Nick---no! no!
Cut your stick, sir--come, mizzle! be off with you! go!"--
The Devil grew hot--
"If I do I'll be shot!
An you come to that, Cuthbert, I'll tell you what's what;
He has _asked_ us to _dine here_, and go we will not!
Why, you Skinflint,--at least
You may leave us the feast!
Here we've come all that way from our brimstone abode,
Ten million good leagues, sir, as ever you strode,
And the deuce of a luncheon we've had on the road--
'Go!'--'Mizzle!' indeed--Mr. Saint, who are you,
I should like to know?--'Go!' I'll be hanged if I do!
He invited us all--we've a right here--it's known
That a Baron may do what he likes with his own--
Here, Asmodeus--a slice of that beef;--now the mustard!--
What have _you_ got?--oh, apple-pie--try it with custard."

The Saint made a pause
As uncertain, because
He knew Nick is pretty well "up" in the laws,
And they _might_ be on _his_ side--and then, he'd such claws!
On the whole, it was better, he thought, to retire
With the curly-wigged boy he'd picked out of the fire,
And give up the victuals--to retrace his path,
And to compromise--(spite of the Member for Bath).
So to Old Nick's appeal,
As he turned on his heel,
He replied, "Well, I'll leave you the mutton and veal,
And the soup _a la Reine_, and the sauce _Bechamel;_
As the Scroope _did_ invite you to dinner, I feel
I can't well turn you out--'twould be hardly genteel---
But be moderate, pray,--and remember thus much,
Since you're treated as Gentlemen--show yourselves such,
And don't make it