TIE KING OF BRENTFORD'S TESTAMENT.
W. M. THACKERAY. The noble king of Brentford
Was old and very sick, He summon'd his physicians
To wait upon him quick ; They stepp'd into their coaches
And brought their best physick.
They cramm'd their gracious master
With potion and with pill;
They drench'd him and they bled him:
They could not cure his ill.
“Go fetch,” says he, “my lawyer,
I'd better make my will."
The monarch's royal mandate
The lawyer did obey;
The thought of six-and-eightpence,
Did make his heart full gay.
“What is't,” says he, “your majesty
Would wish of me to-day?" " The doctors have belabour'd me
With potion and with pill :
My hours of life are counted,
O man of tape and quill!
Sit down and mend a pen or two,
I want to make my will.