Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/91

 But because a fellow's pathetic, you needn't low like a cow.

I should like—on my soul, I should like—to remember—but somehow I can't— If the lady whose love has reduced me to this was the niece or the aunt. But whichever it was, I feel sure, when I published my lays of last year (You remember their title—The Tramp—only seven-and-sixpence—not dear), I sent her a copy (perhaps her tears fell on the title-page—yes— I should like to imagine she wept)—and the Bride of Bulgaria (MS.) I forwarded with it. The lyrics, no doubt, she found bitter—and sweet;