Page:Wanton Tom, or, The merry history of Tom Stitch the tailor.pdf/18

19 Let me no more upon the rock of fate be toſs'd,

Nor think of her whom I have lately loſt. My loving miſtreſs, whom I made a ſlave, Is fled from me, for to embrace the grave, Triumphing grief! I fear my heart will break;

My tears guſh forth, my tongue can ſcarcely ſpeak.

None ever get did mourn and weep like me, Nor none ſure that had the like deſtiny. But hold: in vain I grieve for her that's gone,

I'll no more to the regardleſs air make moan; If Fortune will but ſmile on me once again, I'll quit myſelf from all this grief & pain. Farewel rich London, and my mother too, For unto both I now muſt bid adieu.

Tom having eaſed his mind, roſe up, and went on till he came to Leeds, where he was entertained very kindly by a rich old woman, both for bed and board; for he no ſooner asked her, but ſhe conſented, and was very glad when he ſued her for affection, whom the daily wiſhed to enjoy, yet kept off at a ſeeming diſtance for ſome time, though not long.