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 Yet in those of low rank no good is But oppression and hardship foreruns; Unkind will be all their relations and friends Ungrateful their daughters and sons.

W.—Little peevish, crabbed elf, Fond of no one but herself, Cross, and still for trifles striving, With her truly there's no living. M.—Tho' honest you look & you speak a man Yet you know you're a rascal in grain; For sixpence your soul to the devil you'll swear But he'll send such a thief back again.

W.—If this card you shall draw, O return it again Be quick, ma'am, to take my advice; For its only production are trouble and pain And I hope you will not draw it twice. But such your misfortune, I've nothing to say To assist you is out of my power, The stars are enacting the devil to pay, And the play-house is open'd at four. M—Full well I foresaw that the devil to pay, Would harass each young female elf, And see, my dear ladies, to help on the play That here comes the devil himself.

W.—'Tis not your fortune, wit, or birth, Can the day of death defer; You'll soon return to parent earth, And mix your lovely dust with her. This will prove a mourning card, And drown in tears the fairest face, But her fate is no ways hard, The lot of all the human race. M.—Bad luck to a woman is good to man, And it happens so often through life; Let the man who draws this deny it if he can For he quickly shall bury his wife.