with thy band, thou priest of Dagon, and be hanged to thee," seizing the colonel by the collar, who losing his gravity in the scuffle, bereft at the same time of his high crowned hat, stood at once exposed, and laughing until he roared again; whilst the astonished old Waller staggered aghast, not knowing whether he was awake, or in a dream. Why, hey! what in the name of wonder does all this mean? Surely I am becrazed-What! good lord! as I livewhy 'tis colonel Ingoldsby. Excuse me, Sir, upon my word, Sir, I do not wish to give offence, Sir, but indeed this is carrying the joke too far, colonel, you have no right, Sir, to agitate an honest trader in this light, upon my conscience it is not fair, master colonel, to treat a reputable citizen of London in this guise. Whip me, Master Barlowe, if I know whether I am, I myself or no, for naught but fraud and cheatery, and enthralment has beset me this blessed morning.'

"First comes a letter from a rascally limb of the law, threatening to trounce me for usury and false imprisonment, because I sought my own legally."

❝ 0-0 ! say you so master bookseller; then you are the merciful gentleman who holds Master Shirley in the Marshalsea," said Walker, "I would not stand in your shoes for a trifle."

"How dost thee find that out?" enquired the bookseller.

"That is my affair," replied the portraitpainter, eyeing him with a sarcastic sneer. "And so you dub yourself an honest trader do you,

* James Shirley the poet who by turns, (like Johns and Webster,) was a school-master, and writer for the stage, and accordingly, as the times were peaceable or turbulent pursued one or other of these occupations. Some of his plays were written in the reign of King James the First, but their success does not appear to have been equal to their merit, until they were brought forward at the Restoration, when Sir William Davenant, with the aid of dresses and scenery, brought them before the public, and acquired for their author, a man of rare talent, both reputation and profit."

Shirley and his wife, overcome by the terror of the great fire of 1666, in which their house was consumed, died within twenty-four hours of each other, and were buried in the same grave.

and a reputable citizen of London, hey? old

"I'll abide the consequences," said old Waller," and that, master limner, is my affair, and what then, Sir ?"

a

"Why, the what then is, that you are wily, rapacious, old extortioner, and deserve to have your ears nailed to your own shop-door. What think you brother Matt, this fair trader here, holds poor Shirley's bond for thirty pounds, has sold his security for eighty, and has sent him to jail, his debtor the lord knows what. I wonder," says Walker, "who was generous and warm hearted? I wonder you dare look an honest man in the face."

"That is no affair of thine, Sir," said the bookseller; "beside which, sister Abigail's attorney at law, is our joint adviser, 'tis a joint affair, and I told Master Shirley, he might come to terms with him the said attorney. But your poets have no principle now-a-days, no, not a jot; they get into honest people's debt, and never pay nobody. Besides, he bounces, and is just as haughty, and as thin skinned forsooth,

and talks of his being a gentleman, as though he had an estate of five hundred a year."

Then, determined to proceed with the catalogue of his calamities, Waller resumed: "Then there's that rascally jew Mordecai, comes to my shop this blessed morning, and knowing that I am an easy, unsuspicious, open-dealing old fool, he sells me a lot of common prayers, at his own price, the remorseless rogue. And as I hope to be saved, for I had no time to examine themAye! in my usual way as sister Abigail justly says on that score at least, I say, as I had no time to examine them, took them all at his word, and lo! every copy turns out, neither more nor less than popish prayers.”

"The devil!" exclaimed Ingoldsby, "then Master Mordecai has bamboozled me too, no doubt. Confound the rogue, by the lord, a fellow ought to have all his eyes about him who buys gospel of an Israelite," when feeling in his pocket for the book, he began to solace himself, the mad-cap, by singing

There was an old woman of Kew,
And her age it was four score and seven,
Who vow'd she would wed with a Jew,
In her way to the kingdom of Heaven:

Say's she, I've a plenty of gold,

Say's he vot a useful commodity;

Never mind though you're ugly and old,

I'll tip you a kiss out of charity.

Tol de rol tol de rol lol.

And O my dear Moses,' says she,
I hope you will never be jealous;
For tanketing after of me,

Comes half a score handsome young fellows.'
Says Moses, I don't care a curse,

I vosh always remarkably civil,

Let me only lay hold on your purse,
Your admirers may go to the devil.'

Tol de tol lol de rol lol.

"This is vile work though, Master Moses Mordecai, to take in the poor and needy, to diddle a broken down soldier out of his silver crown."

66

Hey! what! and is that all, Master Ingoldsby. O! then, that is no great matter, he bilked me of nineteen, yea, did the villain; but I shall have hold of him, and if I do not set him neck and heels in Bridewell, I am the greatest sinner in all Christendom."

"Let me see," said Ingoldsby, "Here is the The Book of Common Prayer, as

title page.