So that he looked like a drunken beau half rifled by bullies, or
like a fresh tenant of Newgate when he has refused the payment of
garnish, or like a discovered shoplifter left to the mercy of
Exchange-women {111a}, or like a bawd in her old velvet petticoat
resigned into the secular hands of the mobile {111b}. Like any or
like all of these, a medley of rags, and lace, and fringes,
unfortunate Jack did now appear; he would have been extremely glad
to see his coat in the condition of Martin's, but infinitely gladder
to find that of Martin in the same predicament with his. However,
since neither of these was likely to come to pass, he thought fit to
lend the whole business another turn, and to dress up necessity into
a virtue. Therefore, after as many of the fox's arguments as he
could muster up for bringing Martin to reason, as he called it, or
as he meant it, into his own ragged, bobtailed condition, and
observing he said all to little purpose, what alas! was left for the
forlorn Jack to do, but, after a million of scurrilities against his
brother, to run mad with spleen, and spite, and contradiction.
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