PERIGOT.

Ah silly swain, and to the future blind, Sure some black dæmon hath possess'd your mind!

For grant-tho' Lobbin, I have doubt and fears

Your honest hire in that same purse appears, Yet that you boast is all that you possess: And how you long to make that little less! But think, my friend, from service if dismist,

Where will you live, and how will you

subsist?

Will the old landlord at yon same Duke's Head,

Who courts your money now, then give you bread?

No, no, besure, he'll turn you from his door,

When once he finds you penny less and poor. Or, if by sickness to your bed confin'd, What secret anguish will oppress your

To view no hospitable master nigh,
No gentle mistress with a pitying eye,
Anxious their good domestic to restore,
Repaying thus each service o'er and o'er.
Oh pleasing state?-how different think, to

roam

Sick, faint, and poor, neglected and alone.

LOBBIN.

No fancy'd ills, impossible and vain, Disturb my peace, or give a moment's pain: We shall catch larks, my lad, when fall the skies;

So save your breath, nor be so wondrous wise:

For, think not, friend, to teach me what to do:

I can both read and write as well as you.

For read you ne'er so well, you never look, I know it, Lobbin, in that holy book, Which brings such blessed tidings to our

ears,

So warms our hopes, and dissipates our fears!

Where we are taught, that provident o'er

all,

Rules the dread sov'reign of the subject

ball,

A general father; whose impartial care
Alike the master, and the servant share :
Their lots, tho' different here, the same
their fate,

In the high mansions of a future state;
If firm fidelity they learn to shew

In all the duties of their state below,

Chear'd by this thought no labours-seem

severe

Thro' the long, watchings of the toilsome

year:

Set by this hope, Ilook with constant eye To him, my mighty master in the sky!

And humbly still endeavour to approve
By faithfulness on earth, my heav'nly love.
Thus pass I like a pilgrim, on my way,
Hoping for better things some future day;
Like those blest shepherds, who in tents
abode

Strangers on earth, but denizens with God; Who now rejoice, their faith's high end attain'd,

With him, who not the shepherd's name dain'd,

Him, who his chosen flock not meanly fed, But for that flock-oh gracious shepherdbled!

LOBBIN.

Why Perigot, my lad, thy flock forsake? And like the cobler Dick, to preaching take; Get a joint stool, like him, thou❜lt drive a trade,

Not him alone, but thou wilt him exceed The bawling person, who, the other day, So long on our wind-mill, did sing and preach and pray!

VOL. III.

There thou hast learnt this gravity I trow, And rather after him would'st groaning go, Than share the pastimes at the house below.

PERIGOT.

Spare your vain jibes for, shepherd, be it known,

I gad not after peachers up and down:
Nor time have I, nor need-content to hear,
Two sermons every sabbath thro' the year:
And our good vicar-but why tell it thee
Who'd'st rather sleep, than at a sermon be?
-Well, well, laugh on :—but they, who
win should jest;

And sure I am, that Perigot is blest,
Far beyond Lobbin, in his present state;
In future hopes the difference how great?
--My master's love, by confidence is
shown,

And all his interests thus become my own.
One of his household, his delights I share;
And feel his pleasure, as I feel his care,