CHIT-CHAT. AN IMITATION OF THEOCRITUS. IDYLL. XV. Ενδοι Πραξινόα, &c. BY ROBERT LLOYD. MRS. BROWN. Is Mistress SCOT at home, my dear? SERVANT. MA'M, is it you? I'm glad you're here. Is quite unpatient-'tis fo late. She fancy'd you would not come down, MRS. SCOT. Your fervant, MADAM. Well, I swear I'd giv'n you over-Child, a chair. Pray, MA'M, be feated. MRS. BROWN. 5 Lard! my dear, 10 I vow I'm almost dead with fear. There is fuch fcrouging and fuch Squeeging, The folks are all so disobliging; Born 1733; dyed 1764. And then the waggons, carts and drays MRS. SCOT. Lard! MA'M, I left it all to Him, Husbands, you know, will have their whim. 15 22 He took this house. This house! this den.- 25 -- See but the temper of fome men. MRS. BROWN. Hift! lower, pray, The child hears every word you say. See how he looks MRS. SCOT. Jacky, come here, There's a good boy, look up, my dear. 'Twas not papa we talk'd about. -Surely he cannot find it out. 39 MRS. BROWN. See how the urchin holds his hands. Upon my life he understands. -There's a fweet child, come, kiss me, come, Will Jacky have a fugar-plumb? MRS. SCOT. This Perfon, MADAM, (call him so, 35 And then the child will never know) 40 From house to houfe would ramble out, And every night a drunken-bout. For at a tavern he will spend Your rabbits fricaffeed and chicken, 45 With curious choice of dainty picking, 50 MRS. BROWN. My good man too-Lord blefs us! Wives 55 -But we've no time, my dear, to waste. And then the QUEEN MRS. SCOT. бо Aye, aye, you know, 65 Great folks can always make a show. MRS. BROWN. Lard! we've no time for talking now, MRS. SCOT. KITTY, my things,-I'll foon have done, - -Be quick-why sure the gipfy fleeps! -Look how the drawling daudle creeps. That bafon there-why don't you pour? Go on, I fay-stop, ftop-no more— Lud! I could beat the huffey down, She's pour'd it all upon my gown. 75 80 -Bring me my ruffles-can'ft not mind? And pin my handkerchief behind. Sure thou haft aukwardness enough, Go-fetch my gloves, and fan, and muff. -Well, heav'n be prais'd-this work is done, 85 MRS. BROWN. That clouded filk becomes you much, MRS. SCOT. 00 Guefs. MRS. BROWN. Oh! that's impoffible-for I Am in the world the worst to buy. MRS. SCOT. I never love to bargain hard, MRS. BROWN. Indeed you bargain'd with fuccefs, And then 'tis flop'd with such an air. 95 100 |