And was there then no argument
To change the doctor’s vile intent,
And move his pity?—­yes, in truth,
And that was—­paying for the tooth. 
“Zounds! pay for such a stump!  I’d rather—­”
But here the menace went no farther,
For with his other ways of pinching,
Hunks had a miser’s love of snuff. 
A recollection strong enough
To cause a very serious flinching;
In short, he paid and had the feature
Replaced as it was meant by nature;
For tho’ by this ’twas cold to handle
(No corpse’s could have felt so horrid),
And white just like an naked candle,
The doctor deemed and proved it too,
That noses from the nose will do
As well as noses from the forehead;
So, fixed by din of rag and lint,
The part was bandaged up and muffled. 
The chair unfastened, Hunks rose,
And shuffled off, for once unshuffled;
And as he went, these words he snuffled—­
“Well, this is ‘paying thro’ the nose.’”

THE MERMAID OF MARGATE.[38]

  “Alas! what perils do environ
  That man who meddles with a siren!”—­Hudibrus.

[Footnote 38:  Charles Lamb had been reading these verses when he wrote to his friend Dibdin, in June, 1896, and called him “Peter Fin Junior.”]

On Margate beach, where the sick one roams,
  And the sentimental reads;
Where the maiden flirts, and the widow comes
  Like the ocean—­to cast her weeds;—­

Where urchins wander to pick up shells,
  And the Cit to spy at the ships,—­
Like the water gala at Sadler’s Wells,—­
  And the Chandler for watery dips;—­

There’s a maiden sits by the ocean brim,
  As lovely and fair as sin! 
But woe, deep water and woe to him,
  That she snareth like Peter Fin!

Her head is crowned with pretty sea-wares,
  And her locks are golden loose,
And seek to her feet, like other folks’ heirs,
  To stand, of course, in her shoes!

And all day long she combeth them well,
  With a sea-shark’s prickly jaw;
And her mouth is just like a rose-lipped shell,
  The fairest that man e’er saw!

And the Fishmonger, humble as love may be
  Hath planted his seat by her side;
“Good even, fair maid!  Is thy lover at sea,
  To make thee so watch the tide?”

She turned about with her pearly brows,
  And clasped him by the hand;
“Come, love, with me; I’ve a bonny house
  On the golden Goodwin sand.”

And then she gave him a siren kiss,
  No honeycomb e’er was sweeter;
Poor wretch! how little he dreamt for this
  That Peter should be salt-Peter: 

And away with her prize to the wave she leapt,
  Not walking, as damsels do,
With toe and heel, as she ought to have stept,
  But she hopped like a Kangaroo;

One plunge, and then the victim was blind,
  Whilst they galloped across the tide;
At last, on the bank he waked in his mind,
  And the Beauty was by his side