A Covetous old Fellow having taken occasion to hang himself a little

YOu Dog! y' ha' spoyl'd my Rope! 'twas strong, and tight,
And cost I'me sure a Groat but to'ther Night;
A good substantial Rope to give its Due,
'Twould hold an hundred heavier Rogues than You.
I'll swear the Peace! I stood in fear o' my Life;
He vi & armis came; he brought a Knife;
With which, tho' I for certain cannot know't,
I doubt the Villain meant to cut my Throat.
How e're he spoil'd my Goods, the best I had,
He cut my Rope I' me sure, and that's as bad;
I'll trounce the Rogue; I'll try from Court to Court,
If there be any Law in England for't:
Must such an Arbitrary Cur as he,
Divest one of ones Right, and Property?
No—if the Iudge such tricks as these allows,
A Man shan't hang himself in his own House:
And who dreads not such presidents as that?
Nay, 'tis in vain! I'll ne're referr't, That's flat.
When sweetly dangling 'twixt the Earth and Sky,
I was rappt up in Hempen-Extasie;
(Which all who view'd my lovely Snowt might know,)
When all my dreggs of Man were dropt below:
The envious wretch dragg'd back my Stareing Soul,
Just clambring up against the steepy Pole,
And when with Liberty grown free and Wild,
Chain'd it to a Corps, (an't please ye!) all defil'd,
What Soul alive for both the Indys riches,
Would e're descend to such a pair of Breeches?
Lets hang him up for saving me, and then
If e're I cut him down, e'ne hang me up agen!