262.
When a London Scriv'ner died in Oxford in the time of the Sickness, a merry Jack writ this over him: May all by these pre∣sents know, that I that have bound so many, am now fast bound my self: by the means of a Gentleman of an Ancient Family, call'd Mr. Death, who brought me my last Sheet, and to my last period or fulpoint; and though I was never guilty of any great wickedness, yet I liv'd not without many a blot, which my Daughter Pen was the occasion of: I gave no ill ex∣ample to any, but rather give good Copies un∣to all: I was learned too, for I always dealt in good Letters, and was a Justice of Peace in my own Dominions; and though I could hang, yet I could draw; yet I could hang an Arse when my own Money was to be paid: and I made all Bond men hut my Prentices, for them I made free: and after I had writ up all my Letters, this Mr. Death threw some Dust upon 'em; and as one dash of my Pen hath ruin'd many, so my Daughter Pen, hath ruin'd her self: But this naughty Mr. Death assaults me with Bills when I was making of Bonds, and at last seal'd the Letters of my Eyes quite up; and then sent me away Tom∣long home.