Outweigh the balance of thy crimes? But why such haste? the Sick Man whines: Who knows as yet what Heaven designs? That sum and more are in my will. Fool, says the Vision, now 'tis plain, Your life, your soul, your heaven was gain; From every side, with all your might, You scraped, and scraped beyond your right; And after death would fain atone, By giving what is not your own. Where there is life there's hope, he cried; Then why such haste? THE JUGGLER. so groaned and died. A JUGGLER long through all the town Vice heard his fame; she read his bill; Is this, then, he so famed for sleight? Provoked, the juggler cried, "Tis done. Thus said, the cups and balls he played; He shakes his bag, he shows all fair; His fingers spread, and nothing there; But when from thence the hen he draws, Vice now swept forth, and took the place This magic looking-glass, she cries (There, hand it round), will charm your eyes. Each eager eye the sight desired, And every man himself admired. See this bank-note; observe the blessing, Heigh, pass! "Tis gone; Upon his lips a padlock shone. A second puff the magic broke, The padlock vanished, and he spoke. She bids ambition hold a wand; A box of charity she shows: Blow here; and a churchwarden blows. "Tis vanished with conveyance neat, And on the table smokes a treat. She shakes the dice, the board she knocks, And from her pockets fills her box. A counter in a miser's hand A guinea with her touch you see But changed from what was first in view. The Juggler now, in grief of heart, SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO BLACK-EYED SUSAN. ALL in the Downs the fleet was moored, Oh, where shall I my true love find? William, who high upon the yard Rocked with the billow to and fro, So the sweet lark, high poised in air, Shuts close his pinions to his breast The noblest captain in the British fleet O Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear; We only part to meet again. Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be Believe not what the landmen say, Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind: They'll tell thee, sailors when away In every port a mistress find. Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, |