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Life is a various mother: now she dons Her plumes and brilliants, climbs the marble stairs With head aloft, nor ever turns her eyes On lackeys who attend her; now she dwells Grim-clad, up darksome allyes, breathes hot gin, And screams in pauper riot. But to these She came a frugal matron, neat and deft, With cheerful morning thoughts and quick device To find the much in little. Mrs.
'Tis nothing: Imagination onely makes it monstrous. When we are sick we endure a hundred fitts, This is but one; a hundred waies of torture, And cry and howle, weary of all about us, Our frends, allyes, our children teadious to us, Even our best health is but still sufferaunce.
F.T. Barrett, Librarian of the Mitchell Library, Glasgow, for directing my attention to this curious work, a copy of which is among the treasures of that already important institution. "Wit and Mirth. Chargeably collected out of Taverns, Ordinaries, Innes, Bowling-greenes and Allyes, Alehouses, Tobacco-shops, Highwayes, and Water-passages.
My Master And other Kings & Princes your allyes, Lyving yet witnesses of his great meritts And with such admiration that they can Be hardly brought to thinck he should conspire Against these States, for which yourselves best know What travayles he hath undergon; and therefore Once more he do's advice you to use mercy, Which if you doe, he then shall thinck you merit The many favours you have tasted from him: Yf not, he having given you whollsom Counsaile, Yf you refuce it he must thinck himself Slighted in his requests; and then, perhaps, Hereafter you may misse that promptnes in him Which you have found when your wants most requird it.
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