"Christian Knight," began the Monarch ("knight" was diplomat for "dog"), "There is something in your Treaty, that I relish--like roast hog. Know Morocco is no home for Factories and Colossal Stores; And the omnipresent Bagman is a bugbear to my Moors!
"All my Cadis, all my ladies, wish at--Hades Western Trade. You must make large alterations in the Treaty we've half made; Shape it not in Christian interests, Christian Knight, but in MAHOUND's, And--incline thine ear!--I'll give thee, Christian, Thirty Thousand Pounds!!!"
Enter black slave bearing Treasure! Rangèd bags of glittering gold! Then upspake brave EUAN-SMITHEZ. "Hold, base Sultan; minion, hold! Dost thou think to bribe and buy a Christian Knight? A Paynim plan! If _I_ take it, thou mayst sell me to a Moorish dog's-meat man!"
Then his steed obeyed his master, and he whinnied loud and free, Turned his back upon the tempter, caracoled with coltish glee; Struck out with his heels behind him, smote that slave upon the nose, Kicked the bags until the bullion in a Danaë shower arose.
Never DON FERNANDO's charger, _Bavieca_, gave such spring, In the sawdust-sprinkled circus of AL-WIDDICOMB, the King! Never did DON GOMERSALEZ fill the Moslem with more fear, When he smote him o'er the mazzard with his streak-o'-lightning spear!
And the scattered gold flew widely, urged by that prodigious kick, Smote the Frank behind the throne, although he dodged amazing quick; Spattered that insulting Sultan, like a splash of London mud, Blackening his dexter eye, and from his "boko" drawing blood.
Then Sir CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ gave that Moorish Sultan beans, Holding it foul scorn--as did the pluckiest of Christian Queens-- a Christian Knight should take an insult from a turban'd Moor, Without landing him a hot 'un, without giving him what-for!
Speed thee, speed thee, noble charger! Speed thee faster than the wind! Stout Sir CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ leaves that Moorish Fez behind; Shakes its sand from off his shoes, and, having wiped the Sultan's eye, Turns his back, and takes his hook, without e'en wishing him "Good-bye!"
_Wife of the Late Member for Tooting._ "ARCHIBALD, WHY WERE YOU SO GRUMPY AT THE BIGGE BOOTHBYS' TO-NIGHT?"
_L.M. for T._ "SUCH PEOPLE, SUCH A DINNER, FOR A MAN WHO HAS JUST LOST HIS SEAT!"