[Footnote 40:  The muffin-boy, with his “evening bell,” is still in the land; but the evening postman, perambulating the streets and collecting letters “just in time,” has “passed away” for ever.]

THE CARELESSE NURSE MAYD.

I sawe a Mayd sitte on a Bank,
Beguiled by Wooer fayne and fond;
And whiles His flatterynge Vowes She drank,
Her Nurselynge slipt within a Pond!

All Even Tide they Talkde and Kist,
For She was Fayre and He was Kinde;
The Sunne went down before She wist
Another Sonne had sett behinde!

With angrie Hands and frownynge Browe,
That deemd Her owne the Urchine’s Sinne,
She pluckt Him out, but he was nowe
Past being Whipt for fallynge in.

She then beginnes to wayle the Ladde
With Shrikes that Echo answered round—­
O foolish Mayd! to be soe sadde
The Momente that her Care was drownd!

DOMESTIC ASIDES; OR, TRUTH IN PARENTHESES.

“I really take it very kind,
This visit, Mrs. Skinner! 
I have not seen you such an age—­
(The wretch has come to dinner!)

“Your daughters, too, what loves of girls—­
What heads for painters’ easels! 
Come here and kiss the infant, dears—­
(And give it p’rhaps the measles!)

“Your charming boys I see are home
From Reverend Mr. Russell’s;
’Twas very kind to bring them both—­
(What boots for my new Brussels!)

“What! little Clara left at home? 
Well now I call that shabby: 
I should have loved to kiss her so—­
(A flabby, dabby, babby!)

“And Mr. S., I hope he’s well,
Ah! though he lives so handy,
He never now drops in to sup—­
(The better for our brandy!)

“Come, take a seat—­I long to hear
About Matilda’s marriage;
You’re come of course to spend the day! 
(Thank Heaven, I hear the carriage!)

“What! must you go? next time I hope
You’ll give me longer measure;
Nay—­I shall see you down the stairs—­
(With most uncommon pleasure!)

“Good-bye! good-bye! remember all,
Next time you’ll take your dinners! 
(Now, David, mind I’m not at home
In future to the Skinners!”)

SHOOTING PAINS.

   “The charge is prepar’d.”—­Macheath.

If I shoot any more I’ll be shot,
For ill-luck seems determined to star me,
        I have march’d the whole day
        With a gun,—­for no pay—­
Zounds, I’d better have been in the army!

What matters Sir Christopher’s leave;
To his manor I’m sorry I came yet! 
        With confidence fraught
        My two pointers I brought,
But we are not a point towards game yet!

And that gamekeeper too, with advice! 
Of my course he has been a nice chalker,
        Not far, were his words,
        I could go without birds: 
If my legs could cry out, they’d cry “Walker!”