Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/26

Rh Whiteleaded, raddled, she'll outblush her prime, And still her latest tête becomes her best. Content tho' she may bloat like Jonah's gourd, Or shrivel like a hemlock in the frost. 'I was a may-pole in my girl-hood raw, But how improved in hips and bosom since,' The monster titters, whilst the bag-of-bones Bethinks her; 'I am slim and modish now, That once was blowsy, and the cabbage rose Became me not as now the lilies do!'

Well, Avis, wellnatheless I will not mind. You shall not say you vex'd poor Pomeroy, Who'd work her fingers to the bone for you. Here in the bag I have the hood and cloak, The capuchin you bade me bring you

Good,