New-Made Honour
(Imitated From Martial.)
A friend I met, some half hour since—
“Good-morrow, Jack!” quoth I;
The new-made Knight, like any Prince,
Frowned, nodded, and passed by;
When up came Jem—“Sir John, your Slave!”
“Ah, James; we dine at eight—
Fail not—(low bows the supple knave)
Don’t make my lady wait.”
The King can do no wrong? As I’m a sinner,
He’s spoilt an honest tradesman and my dinner.