(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.
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