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July.
Whunaby, if in your box you'll stay,
I'll bring a candle, to let you see.
Sir John.
To light my fiscal to you and me!—
Of it he'd soon make a pretty joke,
By a glimpse, should he any thing smoke!—
No—Let's do without help, when we can;
I'll soon follow a much wiser plan,
By which he shall neither see nor hear;
Neither ſhall I in the scheme appear.—
Shoes off, I'll steal to a room up stairs,
I th' dark.
July.
But you've not yet said your prayers.
Sir John.
I'll not do that 'till guilt I renounce,
And get a discharge for all at once;
One long prayer will then clear the account,
When we know, exact, the full amount.—
Lud! I've cut my shins on these sharp coals!
July.
So much good, from being found in such holes.
Had you allowed me to bring a light,
Your legs had still been heal, clean, and right.
Sir John.
I hear the grue, as ſure's I'm alive!
