The Sot-weed Factor

Or undisguis'd his Mistress sought;

And knowing well his Ware was good,

Refus'd to screen it with a Hood;

His visage dun, and chin that ne'er

Did Raizor feel or Scissers bare,

Or knew the Ornament of Hair,

Look'd sternly Grim, surprized with Fear,

I spur'd my Horse as he drew near:

But Rhoan who better knew than I,

The little Cause I had to fly;

Seem'd by his solemn steps and pace,

Resolv'd I shou'd the Specter face,

Nor faster mov'd, tho' spur'd and lick'd,

Than Balaam's Ass by Prophet kick'd.

Kekicknitop (q) the Heathen cry'd;

How is it, Tom, my Friend reply'd,

Judging from thence the Brute was civil,

I boldly fac'd the Courteous Devil;

And lugging out a Dram of Rum,

I gave his Tawny worship some:

Who in his language as I guess,

(My Guide informing me no less,)

Implored the (r) Devil, me to bless.