Journal of the Plague Year

continued, by a Gentleman

While out to-day at the Taylor's having my ſecond-beſt Cummerbund re-guſsetted, I heard from a moſt reliable Seamſtreſs, that the very Helmsman of the ſhip of State hath fallen victim to the General Tribulation. The Prime Minſter himſelf is ſtruck down by the Peſtilence, and hath diſpatched an Array of fops and ſycophants in his place to deliver the daily Announcements, which retain a comforting Unanimitie in blaming the Alchemiſts and Apothecaries for changing the Science, and in demanding that the People unite to ſave our Democracy from the Dictatorſhip of Aſclapius.

This is what comes of an exceſs Flexibility in the diſpenſing of publick Offices. Mr Wyde-Wyndpype at the Bloater and Blueſtocking Coffee-houſe, who in his Cups tends towards the Hiſtoriographical, doth aſsure me that all was very different in that Golden Age before the Power and Luxuriance of Empire corrupted the Britiſh Spirit and ſoftened the ſinews of the Yeomanrie. In thoſe times the Serfs knew their place, and Engliſh Juſtice being enforced by more forthright Methods than our puny ſentimental Drawings and Quarterings, was by no means the meek and rotten Friend of Criminality which it is today. And a Gentleman of good Family could with the greateſt of Eaſe gain Employment ſuited to the Dignitie of his Name, and might without ſtooping to mere Competence command a veritable Army of Expendables in honourable Battle againſt the Beastlie Foreign.

Mr Wyde-Wyndpype is of the Opinion, that the Blacke Death was the Beginning of the End, as it led to a ſhortage of Labour and hence to a lack of motivating ſtarvation among the Peaſants. Given today's exorbitant Price for a ſimple re-guſsetting of a ſecond-beſt Cummerbund, all ſane men muſt pray God our preſent Trouble ſhall have no ſimilar Conſequence.