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-Bring me my ruffles—canst not mind ?
And pin my handkerchief behind.
Sure thou hast awkwardness enough,
Go-fetch my gloves, and fan, and muff.
-Well, heav'n be prais’d—this work is done,
I'm ready now, my dear-let's run.
Girl,-put that bottle on the shelf,
And bring me back the key yourself.
Mrs. B. That clouded silk becomes you much,
I wonder how you meet with such,
But you've a charming taste in dress.
What might it cost you, madam?
Mrs. B. Oh! that's impossible-for I
Am in the world the worst to buy..
Mrs. S. I never love to bargain hard,
Five shillings, as I think, a yard.
-I was afraid it should be gone-
'Twas what I'd set
Mrs. B. Indeed you bargain'd with success,
For it's a most delightful dress.
Besides, it fits you to a hair,
And then 'tis slop'd with such an air.
Mrs. S. I'm glad you think so,--Kitty, here, Bring me my cardinal, my dear. Jacky, my love, nay don't you cry, Take you abroad! Indeed not I; For all the bugaboes to fright yeBesides, the naughty horse will bite ye;
With such a mob about the street,
Bless me, they'll tread you under feet.
Whine as you please, I'll have no blame,
You'd better blubber, than be lame.
Kitty, I say, here, take the boy,
And fetch him down the last new toy,
Make him as merry as you can,
-There, go to Kitty-there's a man.
Call in the dog, and shut the door.
Mrs. B. Oh lard !
Pray go before.
Mrs. B. I can't indeed, now.
Mrs. B. Well then, for once, I'll lead the way.
Mrs. S. Lard! what an uproar! what a throng! How shall we do to get along? What will become of us ?-look here, Here's all the king's horse-guards, my dear. Let us cross over-haste, be quick, -Pray, sir, take care-your horse will kick. He'll kill his rider--he's so wild. -I'm glad I did not bring the child.
Mrs. B. Don't be afraid, my dear, come on,
Why don't you see the guards are gone?
Mrs. S. Well, I begin to draw my breath ;
But I was almost scar'd to death ;
For where a horse rears up and capers,
It always puts me in the vapours.
For as 1 live,--nay, don't you laugh,
I'd rather see a toad by half,
They kick and prance, and look so bold,
It makes my very blood run cold.
But let's go forward-come, be quick,
The crowd again grows vastly thick.
Mrs. B. Come you from Palace-yard, old dame?
Old Woman. Troth, do I, my young ladies, why?
Mrs. B. Was it much crowded when you came ?
Mrs. S. And is his majesty gone by?
Mrs. B. Can we get in, old lady, pray,
To see him robe himself to-day?
Mrs. S. Can
you direct us, dame?
Troy could not stand a siege for ever.
By frequent trying, Troy was won,
All things, by trying, may be done.
Mrs.B. Go thy ways, Proverbs-well, she's gone-
Shall we turn back, or venture on?
Look how the folks press on before,
And throng impatient at the door.
Mrs. S. Perdigious! I can hardly stand,
Lord bless me, Mrs. Brown, your hand;
And you, my dear, take hold of hers,
For we must stick as close as burrs,
Or in this racket, noise and pother,
We certainly shall lose each other.
Good God! my cardinal and sack
Are almost torn from off my back.
Lard, I shall faint--O lud-my breast-
I'm crush'd to atoms, I protest.
God bless me--I have dropt my fan,
-Pray did you see it, honest man?
Man. I, madam! no,-indeed, I fear
You'll meet with some misfortune here.
-Stand back, I say-pray, sir, forbear-
Why, don't you see the ladies there?
Put yourselves under my direction,
Ladies, I'll be your safe protection,
Mrs. S. You're very kind, sir; truly few
Are half so complaisant as you.
We shall be glad at any day
This obligation to repay,
And you'll be always sure to meet
A welcome, sir, in-Lard! the street
Bears such a name, I can't tell how
To tell him where I live, I vow.
-Mercy! what's all this poise and stir?
Pray is the king a coming, sir?
Man. No—don't you hear the people shout? 'Tis Mr. Pitt, just going out. Mrs. B. Ay, there he goes, pray heav'n bless
may the people all caress him.
-Lord, how my husband us'd to sit,
And drink success to honest Pitt,
And happy o'er his evening cheer,
Cry, “ you shall pledge this toast, my dear.”
Mar. Hist-silence-don't you hear the drum
Now, ladies, now, the king's a coming.
There, don't you see the guards approach?
Mrs. B. Which is the king ?
Which is the coach?
Scotchman. Which is the noble earl of Bute?
Geud-faith, I'll gi him a salute.
For he's the Laird of aw our clan,
Troth, he's a bonny muckle man.
Man. Here comes the coach, so very slow
As if it ne'er was made to go,
In all the gingerbread of state,
And staggering under its own weight.
Mrs. S. Upon my word, its monstrous fine !
Would half the gold upon't were mine!
How gaudy all the gilding shows !
It puts one's eyes out as it goes.
What a rich glare of various hues,
What shining yellows, scarlets, blues !
It must have cost a heavy price;
'Tis like a mountain drawn by mice.
Mrs. B. So painted, gilded, and so large,
Bless me! 'tis like my lord mayor's barge.
And so it is look how it reels !
'Tis nothing elsea barge on wheels.
Man. Large! it can't pass St. James's gate,
So big the coach, the arch so strait,
It might be made to rumble through
And pass as other coaches do.