Page:Spaewife, or, Universal fortune-teller (3).pdf/21



—Though much I pity your sad fate, Yet does my pity come too late To ward off fortune's rubs; Though you the queen of hearts should prove, A surly brute shall gain your love, A very knave of clubs. —Whatever you presume to say, The world will talk a different way. Ere well your words transpire: Ask you, good sir, the reason why, You'll know my answer is no lie, No man believes a liar.

—Ah, Madam, too well you love kissing I find. My reason I scarcely need tell ye. For while you draw this, by a fortune unkind, Your neighbours regard your big belly. —And here comes the hero that get the gray brat, Lord, sir, you your blushes may spare, For the world too well knows what you have been at, But dispel the poor lass's despair.

—This, the last, a generous card, Will the first of blessings prove: Be but true, nor doubt reward, In a husband's faithful love. —Of clubs the king, to you who ill portends, Friendly yourself, you’ll meet with many friends.

—In the days of your courtship you'll bill like a dove, But when age shall advance you'll drink hard. Both kissing and tippling you’ll show that you love. If your fortune shall send you this card.