so;
You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a parson's wife,
I never took one in your coat for a conjuror in all my life."
With that, he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say,
"Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away.
Well: I thought I should have swoon'd, "Law!" said I, "what shall I do?
I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!"
Then my Lord called me: "Harry," said my Lord, "don't cry,
I'll give you something towards your loss;" and, says my Lady,
"so will I."
"O, but," said I, "what if, after all, the chaplain won't come to?"
For that, he said, (an't please your Excellencies), I must petition you.
The premises tenderly consider'd, I desire your Excellencies' protection,
And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection:
And, over and above, that I may have your Excellencies' letter,
With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better:
And then your poor petitioner both night and day,
Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray.

XXVII. ELEGY ON PARTRIDGE.

This was written to satirize the superstitious faith placed in the
predictions of the almanac-makers of the period. Partridge was the
name of one of them--a cobbler by profession. Fielding also
satirized the folly in _Tom Jones_. The elegy is upon "his
supposed death", which drew from Partridge an indignant denial.

Well; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd,
Though we all took it for a jest:
Partridge is dead; nay more, he died
Ere he could prove the good 'squire lied.
Strange, an astrologer should die
Without one wonder in the sky!
Not one of his crony stars
To pay their duty at his hearse!
No meteor, no eclipse appear'd!
No comet with a flaming beard!
The sun has rose, and gone to bed,
Just as if Partridge were not dead;
Nor hid himself behind the moon
To make a dreadful night at noon.
He at fit periods walks through Aries,
Howe'er our earthly motion varies;
And twice a year he'll cut the equator,
As if there had been no such matter.
Some wits have wonder'd what analogy
There is 'twixt cobbling and astrology;
How Partridge made his optics rise
From a shoe-sole to reach the skies.
A list the cobbler's temples ties,
To keep the hair out of his eyes;
From whence 'tis plain, the diadem
That princes wear derives from them:
And the