Then the little man reply'd,

If you'll be my little bride,

I'll raise my Love Notes a little

Higher, higher, higher;

Tho' my offers are not meet,

Yet my little heart is great,

With the little God of Love all on
Fire, Fire, Fire.

Then the little maid reply'd,

Should I be your little bride,

Pray what must we have for to

Eat, eat, eat.

Will the flame that you're so rich in

Light a fire in the kitchen,

Or the little God of Love turn the
Spit, Spit, Spit?

Then the little man he sigh'd,
And some say, a little cry'd,
For his little Heart was big with

Sorrow, Sorrow, Sorrow.

As I am your little slave,

If the little that I have
Be too little, little we will
Borrow, borrow, borrow.

Moral.

Then the little man so gent,

Made the little maid relent,

And set her little heart think-king

King, king.

Tho' his offer were but small,

She took his little All,

She could have but the cat and her skin,

Skin, skin.

He who borrows is another man's slave, and pawns his honour, his liberty, and sometimes his nose for payment. Learn to live on little and be independent.

Moral.

L

A Dirge

Patch on Prudence.

ITTLE BETTY WINCKLE she had a pig,

It was a little pig not very big;

When he was alive he liv'd in clover,

But now he is dead and that's all over;

Johnny Winckle, He

Sate down and cry'd,
Betty Winckle, She

Laid down and dy'd;

So there was an end of

one, two, and three, Johnny Winckle, He, Betty Winckle, She,

And Piggie Wiggie.

A Dirge is a song made for the dead, but whether this was made for Betty Winckle or her pig, is uncertain, no notice being taken of it by Cambders, or any of the famous antiquarians.

WALL'S System of Sense

A common case this, to call in our neighbors to rejoice when all the good things are gone.

Yet didn't you see

Yet didn't you see

What naughty tricks they put upon me?

They broke my Pitcher,

And spilt the water,

And huffed my Mother,

And chid her daughter,

And kissed my Sister instead of me.

What a Succession of misfortunes befel this poor girl! But the last Circumstance was most affecting, and might have proved fatal.

WINSLOW'S View of Bath.

I

Amphion's Song of Eurydice

WON'T be my Father's Jack,

I won't be my Father's Gill,

I won't be the Fiddler's wife,

And will have musick when I will.

T'other little Tune

T'other little Tune.

Prithee, Love, play me

T'other little Tune.

MAXIM. Those arts are the most valuable which are of the greatest use.

It is long enough. Never lament the Loss of what is not Worth having.

MAXIM. Those who are given to tell all they know generally tell more than they know.