Page:The Scourge - Volume 5.djvu/34

22 The Ale King.

And who is the housemaid he means to enthral, for his cinder producing alliance, 'Tis Drury Lane Playhouse so wide and so tall, Who Like other combustible ladies must fall, if she cannot set sparks at defiance.

On his warming-pan kneepan he clattering rolled. And the house-made his hand would have taken, but his hand like his passion was too hot to hold, and she soon let it go, but her new ring of gold All melted like butter or bacon.

Oh then, she looked sour; and indeed, well she might* For Vinegar-yard was before her; But spite of her shrieks the ignopotent knight Enrobing the maid in a llame of gas light, To the skies in a skyrocket bore her.

Look, look, 'tis the Ale King so stately and starch. Whose votaries' scorn to be sober, He pops from his vat like a cedar or larch, Brown stout is his doublet, he hops in his march, And froths at the mouth in October.

His spear is a spigot, his shield is a bung, He taps where the housemaid no more is, when lo at his magical bidding upsprung, A second Miss Drury, tall, tidy, and young? And sported in loco sororis.

Back lurid in air for a second resale, the cinder King hot with desire, To Brydges-street hied, but the monarch of ale, with uplifted spigot and faucet and pail Thus chided the monarch of fire.

" Vile tyrant beware of the ferment I brew, I rule the roast here, dash the wig o'me, if spite of your marriage with Old Drury — yon Come here with your tinder box courting the new* I'll have you indicted for bigamy.