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Inscribed in black ink upper right: "9"; in graphite center: "x"; on verso in black ink upper left: "10"; in graphite upper center: "x"

Lettered on inlaid page: "A LONG STORY. 71 | Yet on his way (no sign of grace, | For folks in fear are apt to pray) | To Phoebus he preferr'd his case, | And begg'd his aid that dreadful day. | The Godhead would have back'd his quarrel, | But with a blush on recollection | Own'd that his quiver and his laurel | 'Gainst four such eyes were no protection. | The Court was sat, the Culprit there, | Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping | The Lady Janes and Joans repair, | And from the gallery stand peeping: | Such as in silence of the night | Come (sweep) along some winding entry | (Styack has often seen the sight) | Or at the chapel-door stand sentry; | In"; Lettered on verso, on inlaid page: "72 A LONG STORY. | In peaked hoods and mantles tarnish'd, | Sour visages, enough to scare ye, | High Dames of honour once, that garnish'd | The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary! | The Peeress comes. The Audience stare, | And doff their hats with due submission: | She curtsies, as she takes her chair, | To all the People of condition. | The Bard with many an artful fib, | Had in imagination fenc'd him, | Disprov'd the arguments of Squib, | And all that Groom could urge against him: | But soon his rhetoric forsook him, | When he the solemn hall had seen; | A sudden fit of ague shook him, | He stood as mute as poor Macleane. | Yet"