"'Tis the first time I e'er applied
To ask your counsel for my guide:
But strange events have brought me here,
And at your desk I now appear,
But not without the means to pay,
For all you do and all you say.
And here, good Sir, there's no concealing
We must be cautious in our dealing:
I want employment that will give
Means to be honest and to live.
Such is my warm, heart-felt desire,
Such is the boon I now require,—
And if you do my wishes aid,
I tell you Sir,—you shall be PAID."
Sticking his pen behind his ear
And with a keen enquiring leer,
Sharpsight the curious figure view'd,
And thus the important talk pursued.
SHARPSIGHT.
"In answer to your just desire,
Permit me fairly to enquire,
Which to my ledger is transmitted,
For what your qualities are fitted?
And, in good faith, I wish to know,
What you have done, and what can do?
Nay, to whose word I may refer
For your good name and character.
Such is essential to the case,
Such are the first steps to a place,
Of whate'er kind that place may be,
Whether of high or low degree;
Without them no access to station,
No character, no situation.
—What you assert, you say is true,
I'm sure, my friend, I wish so too:
For what you ask, as you describe,
Is ask'd by all the serving tribe:
'Tis that to which they all pretend,
But those I never can commend
In honour to my own good name, }
And to this room's establish'd fame, }
But what the rigid truth may claim. }
Though as you look this place around,
But common folk are to be found:
Coachmen who sit without a whip;
Footmen, without a call to skip;
Gardeners who have lost their spade,
And Journeymen without a trade;
Clerks whose pens have long been idle;
With grooms quite dull, who ask a bridle;
Cooks who exclaim for roast and boil'd,
And nurs'ry-maids without a child;
Young, sprightly girls who long to clamber
From drawing-rooms to upper chamber,
Ready the drudg'ry to assail
Of scrubbing-brush, and mop and pail;
Stout porters who for places tarry,
Whose shoulders ache for loads to carry;
But character they must maintain,
Or here they come, and pay in vain.
In short, were I to count them o'er,
I could name twenty kinds or more,
Who patient and impatient wait
About this busy, crowded gate.
—But you might higher claimants see
Within this crowded registry,
Who do not at the desk appear,
Nor e'er are seen in person here;
But they are charged a larger fee,
Both for success and secrecy.
Thus you must see how much depends,
To gain your object and your ends,
That you should truly let me know
What you have done,—what you can do;
And I, once more, beg to refer
To your good name and character."
QUÆ GENUS.
"I do profess I can engage
With noble, simple, and with sage.
Though young as yet, I've been so hurl'd
About what you would call the world,
That well I know it, yet 'tis true,
I can be very honest too.
—Of the good name which you demand,
I tell you—I've not one at hand.
Of friends, I once had ample store,
But those fair, prosp'rous days are o'er,
And I must mourn it to my cost
That friends are dead, and gone, and lost;
But if to conscience 'tis referr'd,
My conscience says, Sir, take his word.
—Of character, though I have none,
Perhaps, Sir, I can purchase one:
I, from a corner of my coat,
May just pluck out a pretty note;
Which, with a view to gain an end,
Might, in an urgent want, befriend.
Now, if to place me, you contrive, }
Where I may have a chance to thrive; }
I'll give this note, if I'm alive. }
It may be rather worth your while;
Perhaps it may awake a smile."
Sharpsight appear'd to look astray,
But still he took a glance that way.
"I'm not," he said, "to be beguil'd;"
Though when he glanc'd that way, he smil'd,
And, turning to the other side,
In a calm, soften'd tone replied.
SHARPSIGHT.
"Here money is not that way earn'd,
My reputation is concern'd;
But still I can my duty do,
And strive to be a friend to you.
Sir Jeff'ry Gourmand you may suit;
A Knight renown'd, of high repute,
As all who know his name can tell,
For being rich and living well;
A gen'rous man, but full of whim,
And you may be the thing for him:
In such a way your case I'll mention
As shall awaken his attention.
And now, my worthy friend, I pray,
Mind well what I'm about to say:
Without a creature to refer
Or for good name or character,
And in a state which seems to be
Involv'd in awkward mystery;
And I shall add, with your excuse
For the remark which I must use,
That either accident or nature
Has, on your back, plac'd such a feature,
That were you e'en my dearest friend,
I dare not such an one commend
To any lady worth a groat,
Unless to serve the dame for nought.
—Just turn around, and you may see
A Lady in deep scrutiny,
With a nice quizzing-glass in hand,
Glancing across a liv'ried band;
And once a month she does appear
On this domestic errand here.
If of a maid she wants the use,
Her woman comes to pick and chuse;
But if a man,—she is so nice,
She comes herself to make the choice.
A widow rich, who gives high wages,
If they should please, whom she engages:
But he must be of such a size,
And look so well in her keen eyes,
That she scarce one in twenty sees
Fit to wear her rich liveries.
There's one who has a squinting eye—
I know full well she'll pass him by;
On one poor rogue she'll turn her back
Because his frightful beard is black;
Another will not eat her bread
Because his frizzled crop is red;
These are too weak,—and those too strong,
And some an inch too short or long:
She'll take the best-made of the bunch,
But would be fainting at a hunch.
—Thus then, according to my plan,
Sir Jeff'ry Gourmand is the man;
But to his questions pray reply
Without the veil of mystery:
Your story from your very youth,
If he should ask it—tell the truth;
Your errors fail not to unfold—
In telling them be firm, be bold;
While you your better virtues own,
E'en let your mischiefs all be known,
But let not folly blazen forth
Whate'er you have of conscious worth;
Express the ill with down-cast eye,
And veil the good with modesty;
Though, if you can with prudence poke
Into your tale a funny joke,
Fear not, 'tis what his humour loves,
As his own daily chit-chat proves;
And while he does his bev'rage quaff,
At what he says—be sure you laugh.
But should you not his service suit,
He will not play the churlish brute;
And if not gone too far astray,
May serve you in some other way.
Thus you must see I do my best—
To Fortune I shall leave the rest:
But now I see Sir Jeff'ry enter,
And I must leave you to your venture."
Sharpsight then after humbly greeting
This huge man-mountain of good eating,
For a few minutes in his ear,
Told that which he alone could hear.
The Knight then cast a curious eye
On Johnny, who was standing by,
And just enquir'd from whence he came,
What was his age, and what his name;
Whom he had serv'd, and why he left
The place of which he was bereft?