Alas! what Power, or Place, is provided,
where this poor Mug, this unpitied Slave, can have Redress of his
Wrongs and Sufferings? Or where shall he have a Word of Praise
bestow'd on him for his Well-doings, and faithful Services? If he
prove of a large size, his Owner curses him, and says he will devour
more than he'll earn: If his Size be small, those whom his Master
appoints him to serve will curse him as much, and perhaps threaten
him with the Inquisition of the Standard. Poor Mug, unfortunate is
thy Condition! Of thy self thou wouldst do no Harm, but much Harm is
done with thee! Thou art accused of many Mischiefs; thou art said to
administer Drunkenness, Poison, and broken Heads: But none praise
thee for the good Things thou yieldest! Shouldest thou produce
double Beer, nappy Ale, stallcop Cyder, or Cyder mull'd, fine Punch,
or cordial Tiff; yet for all these shouldst thou not be prais'd, but
the rich Liquors themselves, which tho' within thee, twill be said to
be foreign to thee! And yet, so unhappy is thy Destiny, thou must
bear all their Faults and Abominations! Hast thou been industriously
serving thy Employers with Tiff or Punch, and instantly they dispatch
thee for Cyder, then must thou be abused for smelling of Rum. Hast
thou been steaming their Noses gratefully, with mull'd Cyder or
butter'd Ale, and then offerest to refresh their Palates with the
best of Beer, they will curse thee for thy Greasiness.
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