Journal of the Plague Year

continued, by a Gentleman

About ſix of the Clock this Evening, ſomewhere betwixt the ſeventh and eighth Servings in the ſecond Courſe of High Tea Palate-ticklers, my maxillary and gaſtrick Labours on behalf of the Farmers and Fiſhermen of our ſacred Realm were moſt rudely interrupted by a noiſome Clattering from the Street. It ſeems, that a certain olde Soldier hath recently expired having formerly engaged in ſome meddleſome radical Enterpriſe, to keep rebellious Apothecaries and Nurſes from that benignant Deſtitution, which alone enſures their continuing though grudging Inclination to protect the Health of the deſerving Claſses. The rattleſome Diſturrbance to my economick Repaſt was occaſioned by the Applauſe of the Rabble, each ſtanding in the Entrance to his Hovel and clapping his unwaſhed Hands in barbarous Tribute. It is no doubt a Bleſsing, that the lower Orders ſhould recogniſe and praiſe the Neceſsity for the merely medical and ſcientifick Profeſsions to live upon Charity, but the crippling Burden of Taxes upon the penurious Gentry, coupled with the unwarranted Interruption to my conſuming Effort to maintain the agricultural Supremacy of our great Kingdom, conſpired to cauſe me ſuch patriotick Exaſperation, that I could not forbear leaping from my laborious Trencher and firing my neareſt Blunderbuſs into a Knot of applauding Rowdies. As one who hath aſpired almoſt ſince Birth, to the Command of thoſe who defend our Flag from the Incurſions of Treachery and Foreignneſs, I hope ſoon to raiſe a charitable Subſcription of mine own, which will raiſe a few Millions towards my Expenſes in Powder and Shot.