48
MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS
See who is there?
Advance the fringed curtains of thy eyes,
And tell me who comes yonder[1].
Shut the door.
The wooden guardian of our privacy
Quick on its axle turn.
Bring my clothes.
Bring me what nature, tailor to the bear,
To man himself deny'd; she gave me cold,
But would not give me clothes.
Light the fire.
Bring forth some remnant of Promethean theft,
Quick to expand th' inclement air, congeal'd
By Boreas's rude breath.
Snuff the candle.
Yon' luminary amputation needs,
Thus shall you save its half extinguish'd life.
Open the letter.
Wax! render up thy trust[2].
Uncork the bottle, and chip the bread.
Apply thine engine to the spungy door:
Set Bacchus from his glassy prison free,
And strip white Ceres of her nut-brown coat.
- ↑ Temp.
- ↑ Theob. Double Falshood.
CHAP.
