Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/412

400 She draws up card by card, to find Good fortune peeping from behind; With panting heart, and earnest eyes, In hope to see spadillo rise; In vain, alas! her hope is fed; She draws an ace, aud sees it red; In ready counters never pays, But pawns her snuff box, rings, and keys; Ever with some new fancy struck, Tries twenty charms to mend her luck. "This morning, when the parson came, I said I should not win a game. This odious chair, how came I stuck in't? I think I never had good luck in't. I'm so uneasy in my stays; Your fan a moment, if you please. Stand farther, girl, or get you gone; I always lose when you look on." "Lord! madam, you have lost codille: I never saw you play so ill." "Nay, madam, give me leave to say, 'Twas you that threw the game away: When lady Tricksey play'd a four, You took it with a matadore; I saw you touch your wedding ring Before my lady call'd a king; You spoke a word began with H, And I know whom you mean to teach, Because you held the king of hearts; Fie, madam, leave these little arts." "That's not so bad as one that rubs Her chair, to call the king of clubs; And makes her partner understand A matadore is in her hand." " Madam,