MRS. SCOT.

I'm glad you think fo,-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 ye—
Befides, the naughty horse will bite ye;
With fuch a mob about the street,
Blefs me, they'll tread you under feet.

105

110

Whine as you please, I'll have no blame,

You'd better blubber, than be lame.

The more you cry, the lefs you'll

-Come, come then, give mamma a kifs.

KITTY, I fay, here take the boy,

115

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.

Now, MA'M.

MRS. BROWN.

Well then, for once, I'll lead the way.

MRS. SCOT.

Lard! what an uproar! what a throng!
How shall we do to get along?

What will become of us ?-look here,

125

Here's all the king's horfe-guards, my dear.
Let us cross over-hafte, be quick.

-Pray fir, take care-your horfe will kick.
He'll kill his rider-he's fo wild.

130

-I'm glad I did not bring the child.

MRS. BROWN.

Don't be afraid, my dear, come on,

Why don't you fee the guards are gone?

MRS. SCOT.

Well, I begin to draw my breath;

But I was almost scar'd to death.
For when a horse rears up and

capers,

It always puts me in the vapours.
For as I live, nay don't you laugh,

I'd rather fee a toad by half,

They kick and prance, and look fo bold,

It makes my very blood run cold.

But let's go forward-come, be quick,
The crowd again grows vaftly thick.

MRS. BROWN.

Come you from Palace-yard, old dame?

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140

OLD WOMAN.

Troth, do I, my young ladies, why?

All things, by trying, may be done.

MRS. BROWN.

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. SCOT.

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 fhall lofe each other.

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160

-Good God! my cardinal and fack

Are almoft torn from off

my back.

Lard, I fhall faint-Oh Lud-my breast- 165

I'm crush'd to atoms, I protest.

God bless me- -I have dropt my fan,

-Pray did you fee it, honeft man?

ΜΑΝ.

I, madam! no,-indeed, I fear

You'll meet with fome misfortune here.

170

-Stand back, I fay-pray, fir, forbear

Why, don't you see the ladies there?
Put yourselves under my direction,
Ladies, I'll be your fafe protection.

A welcome, fir, in-Lard! the street

180

MRS. BROWN.

Aye, there he goes, pray heav'n bless him!
Well may the people all caress him.
-Lord, how my hufband us'd to fit,
And drink fuccefs to honeft PITT,
And, happy o'er his evening cheer,
Cry, you shall pledge this toast, my dear.

MAN.

Hift-filence-don't you hear the drumming?
Now, ladies, now, the KING's a coming.
There, don't you fee the guards approach?

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195

Which is the noble EARL OF BUTE?

Geud-faith, I'll gi him a falute.
For he's the Laird of aw our clan,

Troth, he's a bonny muckle man.

200

very

flow

MAN.

Here comes the Coach, fo

As if it ne'er was made to go,

In all the gingerbread of state,

And staggering under its own weight.

MRS. SCOT.

Upon my word, it's monftrous fine!

205

Would half the gold upon't were mine!