THE LAY OF THE HIGH SHERIFF.

BY

PHILIP LYBBE POWYS LYBBE.

LONDON

PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION.

1869.

CHISWICK PRESS:—PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS,
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.

REVERENDO

EDVARDO MOORE

DE COLL. ÆN. NAS. OXON. ALUMNO,
S. S. MARIÆ DE VITCHURCH, OXON. RECTORI,
OPUSCULUM HOC, OLIM CONDITUM,
NUPER CONFECTUM, DICAT, DEDICATQUE

PHILIPPUS LYBBE POWYS LYBBE,

DE DOMO ET MANORIO DE HARDWICK,
ARMIGER.

PROLOGUE

Fiddlers, awake! Rouse up, ye fife and drum!
Clarion and trumpet, lo! I bid thee come!
Blow up, tin horn, twang, harp of unbelievers![1]
Bring me your aid, ye marrow bones and cleavers!
Strike up at once, to celebrate this day!
Who'd not be jolly, and who'd not be gay?
I little thought such happy times to see,
Such bliss, such joys, a sheriff's Ma to be!
Is't true? can such felicity be mine?
It glads me more than all my currant wine![2]
Or do I dream? or are my senses flown?
It's very strange, and mighty queer, I own,
But yet I am, I must be, Mrs. Van![3]
If I ain't, who is? who, good Heavens! can?
I see my cupboards full, and running o'er,
With tamarinds, nuts, and many a luscious store;
There's my old chair, and here the oaken presses
All full of mildew and brocaded dresses,
Fashion'd in times of yore, when in the throng
Of dazzling courtiers, as they pass'd along
The palace halls, my grandam stood confess'd
By all to be most beautifully dress'd;
There's my old shay, and there the red-nosed Bob
Who drives me slow, nor tires with the job.
It must be true, I must be Mrs. Van,
The Sheriff's Ma, disprove it ye who can!
And ye, the crowds,[4] who various duties tend
In this our own snug circle at Cane End,
Dismiss your labours, and with mirth and glee
Bellow hurrahs for Henry and for me!
Know for your feast (for now no English sinner
Can e'er do anything without a dinner);
Fox-hunters, statesmen, parsons, 'tis the same,
And even sheriffs must partake the blame:
For rumour tells me, shocking to relate,
That at the "Star" 'twill be my Henry's fate
O'er the Grand Jury Dinner to preside,
And last, not least, believe me, pay beside.
Sure I have had the kitchen table spread
With mutton bones, and sundry pounds of bread;[5]
Water in plenty, and (though very dear)
Two gallons of strong treble X small beer!
Drink if ye can! the beer's so very small
I think there'll almost be enough for all!
Drink! sing! rejoice! but let the Sheriff's praise
Afford a subject for your roundelays!

[Exit MRS. VAN.

[1] "While vibrating in unbelieving tooth     Harps twang in Drury's walls."
                Rejected Addresses, 19th ed. p. 24, see note 1.

[2] The Cane End currant wine was noted for its goodness.—AUTHOR.

[3] With regard to this abbreviation of the family name, the following anecdote may be relied on. A stranger to Cane End inquired of an ancient inhabitant thereof where Mr. Vanderstegen lived? "Lord, Sir!" (was the answer), "I cannot tell ye, but I knows where our Mr. Van does!"—AUTHOR.

[4] Report says, that the aforesaid red-nosed Bob, Screw Critchfield, and Blind Betty are the only attendants of this ancient family. Of course the text is more to be depended on than mere report.

[5] This seems to be an allusion to a certain supper after a certain ball.

CHORUS OF ATTENDANTS.