.

_Tin_. A curate's! Better be a yeoman's son!
Was it the rector's son, he might be known,
Because the rector is a rising man,
And may become a bishop. He goes light,
The curate ever hath a loaded back!
He may be called the yeoman of the church,
That sweating does his work, and drudges on,
While lives the hopeful rector at his ease.
How made you his acquaintance, pray?

_Roch_. We read
Latin and Greek together.

_Tin_. Dropping them--
As, now that you're a lord, of course you've done--
Drop him--You'll say his lordship's not at home.

_Will_. So please your lordship, I forgot to say,
One Richard Cricket likewise is below.

_Tin_. Who?--Richard Cricket! You must see him, Rochdale!
A noble little fellow! A great man, sir!
Not knowing whom, you would be nobody!
I won five thousand pounds by him!

_Roch_. Who is he?
I never heard of him.

_Tin_. What! never heard
Of Richard Cricket!--never heard of him!
Why, he's the jockey of Newmarket; you
May win a cup by him, or else a sweepstakes.
I bade him call upon you. You must see him.
His lordship is at home to Richard Cricket.

_Roch_. Bid him wait in the ante-room.

[WILLIAMS goes out.]

_Tin_. The ante-room!
The best room in your house! You do not know
The use of Richard Cricket! Show him, sir,
Into the drawing-room. Your lordship needs
Must keep a racing stud, and you'll do well
To make a friend of Richard Cricket. Well, sir:
What's that?

[Enter WILLIAMS.]

_Will_. So please your lordship, a petition.

_Tin_. Hadst not a service 'mongst the Hottentots
Ere thou camest hither, friend? Present thy lord
With a petition! At mechanics' doors,
At tradesmen's, shopkeepers', and merchants' only,
Have such things leave to knock! Make thy lord's gate
A wicket to a workhouse! Let us see it--
Subscriptions to a book of poetry!
Cornelius Tense, M.A.
Which means he construes Greek and Latin, works
Problems in mathematics, can chop logic,
And is a conjurer in philosophy,
Both natural and moral.--Pshaw! a man
Whom nobody, that is anybody, knows!
Who, think you, follows him? Why, an M.D.,
An F.R.S., an F.AS., and then
A D.D., Doctor of Divinity,
Ushering in an LL.D., which means
Doctor of Laws--their harmony, no doubt,
The difference of their trades! There's nothing here
But languages, and sciences, and arts.
Not an iota of nobility!
We cannot give our names. Take back the paper,
And tell the bearer there's no answer for him:--