Chapter II: Act THE FIRST: Scene I

_An American Forest._

_Medium._ [_Without._] Hilli ho! ho!

_Trudge._ [_Without._] Hip! hollo! ho!--Hip!----

_Enter MEDIUM and TRUDGE._

_Med._ Pshaw! it's only wasting time and breath. Bawling won't persuade him to budge a bit faster, and, whatever weight it may have in _some_ places, bawling, it seems, don't go for argument here. Plague on't! we are now in the wilds of America.

_Trudge._ Hip, hillio--ho--hi!----

_Med._ Hold your tongue, you blockhead, or----

_Trudge._ Lord! sir, if my master makes no more haste, we shall all be put to sword by the knives of the natives. I'm told they take off heads like hats, and hang 'em on pegs, in their parlours. Mercy on us! My head aches with the very thoughts of it. Hollo! Mr. Inkle! master; hollo!

_Med._ [_Stops his mouth._] Head aches! Zounds, so does mine, with your confounded bawling. It's enough to bring all the natives about us; and we shall be stripped and plundered in a minute.

_Trudge._ Aye; stripping is the first thing that would happen to us; for they seem to be woefully off for a wardrobe. I myself saw three, at a distance, with less clothes than I have, when I get out of bed: all dancing about in black buff; just like Adam in mourning.

_Med._ This is to have to do with a schemer! a fellow who risks his life, for a chance of advancing his interest.--Always advantage in view! Trying, here, to make discoveries, that may promote his profit in England. Another Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing else could induce him to quit our foraging party, from the ship; when he knows every inhabitant here is not only as black as a pepper-corn, but as hot into the bargain--and _I_, like a fool, to follow him! and then to let him loiter behind.--Why, nephew;--Why, Inkle.--[_Calling._]

_Trudge._ Why, Inkle----Well! only to see the difference of men! he'd have thought it very hard, now, if I had let him call so often after me. Ah! I wish he was calling after me now, in the old jog-trot way, again. What a fool was I to leave London for foreign parts!----That ever I should leave Threadneedle-street, to thread an American forest, where a man's as soon lost as a needle in a bottle of hay!

_Med._ Patience, Trudge! Patience! If we once recover the ship----

_Trudge._ Lord, sir, I shall never recover what I have lost in coming abroad. When my master and I were in London, I had such a mortal snug birth of it! Why, I was _factotum_.

_Med._ Factotum to a young merchant is no such sinecure, neither.

_Trudge._ But then the honour of it. Think of that, sir; to be clerk as well as _own man_. Only consider. You find very few city clerks made out of a man, now-a-days. To be king of the counting-house, as well as lord of the bed-chamber. Ah! if I had him but now in the little dressing-room behind the office; tying his hair, with a bit of red tape, as usual.

_Med._ Yes, or writing an invoice in lampblack, and shining his shoes with an ink-bottle, _as usual_, you blundering blockhead!

_Trudge._ Oh, if I was but brushing the accounts or casting up the coats! mercy on us! what's that?

_Med._ That! What?

_Trudge._ Didn't you hear a noise?

_Med._ Y--es--but--hush! Oh, heavens be praised! here he is at last.

_Enter INKLE._

Now, nephew!

_Inkle._ So, Mr. Medium.

_Med._ Zounds, one would think, by your confounded composure, that you were walking in St. James's Park, instead of an American forest: and that all the beasts were nothing but good company. The hollow trees, here, sentry boxes, and the lions in 'em, soldiers; the jackalls, courtiers; the crocodiles, fine women; and the baboons, beaus. What the plague made you loiter so long?

_Inkle._ Reflection.

_Med._ So I should think; reflection generally comes lagging behind. What, scheming, I suppose; never quiet. At it again, eh? What a happy trader is your father, to have so prudent a son for a partner! Why, you are the carefullest Co. in the whole city. Never losing sight of the main chance; and that's the reason, perhaps, you lost sight of us, here, on the main of America.

_Inkle._ Right, Mr. Medium. Arithmetic, I own, has been the means of our parting at present.

_Trudge._ Ha! A sum in division, I reckon.

[_Aside._

_Med._ And pray, if I may be so bold, what mighty scheme has just tempted you to employ your head, when you ought to make use of your heels?

_Inkle._ My heels! Here's pretty doctrine! Do you think I travel merely for motion? What, would you have a man of business come abroad, scamper extravagantly here and there and every where, then return home, and have nothing to tell, but that he has _been_ here and there and every where? 'Sdeath, sir, would you have me travel like a lord?

_Med._ No, the Lord forbid!

_Inkle._ Travelling, uncle, was always intended for improvement; and improvement is an advantage; and advantage is profit, and profit is gain. Which in the travelling translation of a trader, means, that you should gain every advantage of improving your profit. I have been comparing the land, here, with that of our own country.

_Med._ And you find it like a good deal of the land of our own country----cursedly encumbered with black legs, I take it.

_Inkle._ And calculating how much it might be made to produce by the acre.

_Med._ You were?

_Inkle._ Yes; I was proceeding algebraically upon the subject.

_Med._ Indeed!

_Inkle._ And just about extracting the square root.

_Med._ Hum!

_Inkle._ I was thinking too, if so many natives could be caught, how much they might fetch at the West Indian markets.

_Med._ Now let me ask you a question, or two, young cannibal catcher, if you please.

_Inkle._ Well.

_Med._ Ar'n't we bound for Barbadoes; partly to trade, but chiefly to carry home the daughter of the governor, Sir Christopher Curry, who has till now been under your father's care, in Threadneedle-street, for polite English education?

_Inkle._ Granted.

_Med._ And isn't it determined, between the old folks, that you are to marry Narcissa, as soon as we get there?

_Inkle._ A fixed thing.

_Med._ Then what the devil do you do here, hunting old hairy negroes, when you ought to be obliging a fine girl in the ship? Algebra, too! You'll have other things to think of when you are married, I promise you. A plodding fellow's head, in the hands of a young wife, like a boy's slate, after school, soon gets all its arithmetic wiped off: and then it appears in its true simple state: dark, empty, and bound in wood, Master Inkle.

_Inkle._ Not in a match of this kind. Why, it's a table of interest from beginning to end, old Medium.

_Med._ Well, well, this is no time to talk. Who knows but, instead of sailing to a wedding, we may get cut up, here, for a wedding dinner: tossed up for a dingy duke, perhaps, or stewed down for a black baronet, or eat raw by an inky commoner?

_Inkle._ Why sure you ar'n't afraid?

_Med._ Who, I afraid? Ha! ha! ha! No, not I! What the deuce should I be afraid of? Thank Heaven I have a clear conscience, and need not be afraid of any thing. A scoundrel might not be quite so easy on such an occasion; but it's the part of an honest man not to behave like a scoundrel: I never behaved like a scoundrel--for which reason I am an honest man, you know. But come--I hate to boast of my good qualities.

_Inkle._ Slow and sure, my good, virtuous Mr. Medium! Our companions can be but half a mile before us: and, if we do but double their steps, we shall overtake 'em at one mile's end, by all the powers of arithmetic.

_Med._ Oh curse your arithmetic!

[_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Another part of the Forest.--A ship at anchor in the bay at
a small distance.--Mouth of a cave._

_Enter SAILORS and MATE, as returning from foraging._

_Mate._ Come, come, bear a hand, my lads. Tho'f the bay is just under our bowsprits, it will take a damned deal of tripping to come at it--there's hardly any steering clear of the rocks here. But do we muster all hands? All right, think ye?

_1st. Sail._ All to a man----besides yourself, and a monkey----the three land lubbers, that edged away in the morning, goes for nothing, you know--they're all dead, may-hap, by this.

_Mate._ Dead! you be--Why they're friends of the captain; and if not brought safe aboard to-night, you may all chance to have a salt eel for your supper--that's all--Moreover the young plodding spark, he with the grave, foul weather face, there, is to man the tight little frigate, Miss Narcissa--what d'ye call her? that is bound with us for Barbadoes. Rot'em for not keeping under weigh, I say! But come, let's see if a song will bring 'em too. Let's have a full chorus to the good merchant ship, the Achilles, that's wrote by our captain.

SONG.

_The Achilles, though christen'd, good ship, 'tis surmis'd,_
_From that old man of war, great Achilles, so priz'd,_
_Was he, like our vessel, pray fairly baptiz'd?_
_Ti tol lol, &c._

_Poets sung_ that _Achilles--if, now, they've an itch_
_To sing_ this, _future ages may know which is which;_
_And that one rode in Greece--and the other in pitch._
_Ti tol lol, &c._

_What tho' but a merchant ship--sure our supplies:_
_Now your men of war's gain in a lottery lies,_
_And how blank they all look, when they can't get a prize!_
_Ti tol lol, &c._

_What are all their fine names? when no rhino's behind,_
_The Intrepid, and Lion, look sheepish you'll find;_
_Whilst, alas! the poor Æolus can't raise the wind!_
_Ti tol lol, &c._

_Then the Thunderer's dumb; out of tune the Orpheus;_
_The Ceres has nothing at all to produce;_
_And the Eagle I warrant you, looks like a goose._
_Ti tol lol, &c._

_1st. Sail._ Avast! look a-head there. Here they come, chased by a fleet of black devils.

_Midsh._ And the devil a _fire_ have I to give them. We han't a grain of powder left. What must we do, lads?

_2d. Sail._ Do? Sheer off to be sure.

_Midsh._ [_Reluctantly._] Well, if I must, I must. [_Going to the other side, and holloing to INKLE, &c._] Yoho, lubbers! Crowd all the sail you can, d'ye mind me!

[_Exeunt_ SAILORS.

_Enter MEDIUM, running across the stage, as pursued by the Blacks._

_Med._ Nephew! Trudge! run--scamper! Scour--fly! Zounds, what harm did I ever do to be hunted to death by a pack of bloodhounds? Why nephew! Oh, confound your long sums in arithmetic! I'll take care of myself; and if we must have any arithmetic, dot and carry one for my money.

[_Runs off._

_Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, hastily._

_Trudge._ Oh! that ever I was born, to leave pen, ink, and powder for this!

_Inkle._ Trudge, how far are the sailors before us?

_Trudge._ I'll run and see, sir, directly.

_Inkle._ Blockhead, come here. The savages are close upon us; we shall scarce be able to recover our party. Get behind this tuft of trees with me; they'll pass us, and we may then recover our ship with safety.

_Trudge._ [_Going behind._] Oh! Threadneedle-street, Thread--

_Inkle._ Peace.

_Trudge._ [_Hiding._]--Needle-street. [_They hide behind trees. Natives cross. After a long pause, INKLE looks from the trees._]

_Inkle._ Trudge.

_Trudge._ Sir. [_In a whisper._]

_Inkle._ Are they all gone by?

_Trudge._ Won't you look and see?

_Inkle._ [_Looking round._] So all is safe at last. [_Coming forward._] Nothing like policy in these cases; but you'd have run on, like a booby! A tree, I fancy, you'll find, in future, the best resource in a hot pursuit.

_Trudge._ Oh, charming! It's a retreat for a king, sir: Mr. Medium, however, has not got up in it; your uncle, sir, _has run on like a booby_; and has got up with our party by this time, I take it; who are now most likely at the shore. But what are we to do next, sir?

_Inkle._ Reconnoitre a little, and then proceed.

_Trudge._ Then pray, sir, proceed to reconnoitre; for the sooner the better.

_Inkle._ Then look out, d'ye hear, and tell me if you discover any danger.

_Trudge._ Y----Ye--s--Yes.

_Inkle._ Well, is the coast clear?

_Trudge._ Eh! Oh lord!--Clear! [_Rubbing his eyes._] Oh dear! oh dear! the coast will soon be clear enough now, I promise you----The ship is under sail, sir!

_Inkle._ Confusion! my property carried off in the vessel.

_Trudge._ All, all, sir, except me.

_Inkle._ They may report me dead, perhaps, and dispose of my property at the next island. [_The vessel appears under sail._]

_Trudge._ Ah! there they go. [_A gun fired._]----That will be the last report we shall ever hear from 'em I'm afraid.--That's as much as to say, Good bye to ye. And here we are left--two fine, full-grown babes in the wood!

_Inkle._ What an ill-timed accident! Just too, when my speedy union with Narcissa, at Barbadoes, would so much advance my interests.--Ah, my Narcissa, I never shall forget thy last adieu.--Something must be hit upon, and speedily; but what resource? [_Thinking._]

_Trudge._ The old one--a tree, sir.--'Tis all we have for it now. What would I give, now, to be perched upon a high stool, with our brown desk squeezed into the pit of my stomach--scribbling away an old parchment!----But all my red ink will be spilt by an old black pin of a negro.

SONG.

[Last Valentine's Day.]

_A voyage over seas had not entered my head,_
_Had I known but on which side to butter my bread,_
_Heigho! sure I--for hunger must die!_
_I've sail'd like a booby; come here in a squall,_
_Where, alas! there's no bread to be butter'd at all!_
_Oho! I'm a terrible booby!_
_Oh, what a sad booby am I!_

_In London, what gay chop-house signs in the street!_
_But the only sign here is of nothing to eat._
_Heigho! that I----for hunger should die!_
_My mutton's all lost; I'm a poor starving elf!_
_And for all the world like a lost mutton myself._
_Oho! I shall die a lost mutton!_
_Oh! what a lost mutton am I!_

_For a neat slice of beef, I could roar like a bull;_
_And my stomach's so empty, my heart is quite full._
_Heigho! that I--for hunger should die!_
_But, grave without meat, I must here meet my grave,_
_For my bacon, I fancy, I never shall save._
_Oho! I shall ne'er save my bacon!_
_I can't save my bacon, not I!_

_Trudge._ Hum! I was thinking----I was thinking, sir--if so many natives could be caught, how much they might fetch at the West India markets!

_Inkle._ Scoundrel! is this a time to jest?

_Trudge._ No, faith, sir! Hunger is too sharp to be jested with. As for me, I shall starve for want of food. Now you may meet a luckier fate: you are able to extract the square root, sir; and that's the very best provision you can find here to live upon. But I! [_Noise at a distance._] Mercy on us! here they come again.

_Inkle._ Confusion! Deserted on one side, and pressed on the other, which way shall I turn?--This cavern may prove a safe retreat to us for the present. I'll enter, cost what it will.

_Trudge._ Oh Lord! no, don't, don't----We shall pay too dear for our lodging, depend on't.

_Inkle._ This is no time for debating. You are at the mouth of it: lead the way, Trudge.

_Trudge._ What! go in before your honour! I know my place better, I assure you--I might walk into more mouths than one, perhaps. [_Aside._]

_Inkle._ Coward! then follow me. [_Noise again._]

_Trudge._ I must, sir; I must! Ah, Trudge, Trudge! what a damned hole are you getting into!

[_Exeunt into a Cavern._

SCENE III.

_A cave, decorated with skins of wild beasts, feathers, &c. In the
middle of the scene, a rude kind of curtain, by way of door to an
inner apartment._

_Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, as from the mouth of the cavern._

_Inkle._ So far, at least, we have proceeded with safety. Ha! no bad specimen of savage elegance. These ornaments would be worth something in England.--We have little to fear here, I hope: this cave rather bears the pleasing face of a profitable adventure.

_Trudge._ Very likely, sir! But for a pleasing face, it has the cursed'st ugly month I ever saw in my life. Now do, sir, make off as fast as you can. If we once get clear of the natives' houses, we have little to fear from the lions and leopards: for by the appearance of their parlours, they seem to have killed all the wild beast in the country. Now pray, do, my good master, take my advice, and run away.

_Inkle._ Rascal! Talk again of going out, and I'll flea you alive.

_Trudge._ That's just what I expect for coming in.--All that enter here appear to have had their skins stript over their ears; and ours will be kept for curiosities--We shall stand here, stuffed, for a couple of white wonders.

_Inkle._ This curtain seems to lead to another apartment: I'll draw it.

_Trudge._ No, no, no, don't; don't. We may be called to account for disturbing the company: you may get a curtain-lecture, perhaps, sir.

_Inkle._ Peace, booby, and stand on your guard.

_Trudge._ Oh! what will become of us! Some grim, seven foot fellow ready to scalp us.

_Inkle._ By heaven! a woman.

[_As the curtain draws, YARICO and WOWSKI discovered asleep._

_Trudge._ A woman! [_Aside._]--[_Loud._] But let him come on; I'm ready--dam'me, I don't fear facing the devil himself--Faith it is a woman--fast asleep too.

_Inkle._ And beautiful as an angel!

_Trudge._ And egad! there seems to be a nice, little plump bit in the corner; only she's an angel of rather a darker sort.

_Inkle._ Hush! keep back--she wakes. [_YARICO comes forward--INKLE and TRUDGE retire to opposite sides of the scene._]

SONG.--YARICO.

_When the chace of day is done,_
_And the shaggy lion's skin,_
_Which for us, our warriors win,_
_Decks our cells at set of sun;_
_Worn with toil, with slap opprest,_
_I press my mossy bed, and sink to rest._

_Then, once more, I see our train,_
_With all our chase renew'd again:_
_Once more 'tis day,_
_Once more our prey_
_Gnashes his angry teeth, and foams in vain._
_Again, in sullen haste, he flies,_
_Ta'en in the toil, again he lies,_
_Again he roars--and, in my slumbers, dies._

_INKLE and TRUDGE come forward._

_Inkle._ Our language!

_Trudge._ Zounds, she has thrown me into a cold sweat.

_Yar._ Hark! I heard a noise! Wowski, awake! whence can it proceed? [_She awakes WOWSKI, and they both come forward--YARICO towards INKLE_; _WOWSKI towards TRUDGE._]

_Yar._ Ah! what form is this?----are you a man?

_Inkle._ True flesh and blood, my charming heathen, I promise you.

_Yar._ What harmony in his voice! What a shape! How fair his skin too----[_Gazing._]

_Trudge._ This must be a lady of quality, by her staring.

_Yar._ Say, stranger, whence come you?

_Inkle._ From a far distant island; driven on this coast by distress, and deserted by my companions.

_Yar._ And do you know the danger that surrounds you here? Our woods are filled with beasts of prey--my countrymen too----(yet, I think they cou'd'nt find the heart)--might kill you.----It would be a pity if you fell in their way----I think I should weep if you came to any harm.

_Trudge._ O ho! It's time, I see, to begin making interest with the chamber maid. [_Takes WOWSKI apart._]

_Inkle._ How wild and beautiful! sure there is magic in her shape, and she has rivetted me to the place. But where shall I look for safety? let me fly and avoid my death.

_Yar._ Oh! no--don't depart.----But I will try to preserve you; and if you are killed, Yarico must die too! Yet, 'tis I alone can save you; your death is certain, without my assistance; and, indeed, indeed you shall not want it.

_Inkle._ My kind Yarico! what means, then, must be used for my safety?

_Yar._ My cave must conceal you: none enter it, since my father was slain in battle. I will bring you food by day, then lead you to our unfrequented groves by moonlight, to listen to the nightingale. If you should sleep, I'll watch you, and awake you when there's danger.

_Inkle._ Generous maid! Then, to you will I owe my life; and whilst it lasts, nothing shall part us.

_Yar._ And shan't it, shan't it indeed?

_Inkle._ No, my Yarico! For when an opportunity offers to return to my country, you shall be my companion.

_Yar._ What! cross the seas!

_Inkle._ Yes, Help me to discover a vessel, and you shall enjoy wonders. You shall be decked in silks, my brave maid, and have a house drawn with horses to carry you.

_Yar._ Nay, do not laugh at me--but is it so?

_Inkle._ It is indeed!

_Yar._ Oh wonder! I wish my countrywomen could see me----But won't your warriors kill us?

_Inkle._ No, our only danger on land is here.

_Yar._ Then let us retire further into the cave. Come--your safety is in my keeping.

_Inkle._ I follow you--Yet, can you run some risk in following me?

DUETT.

[O say, Bonny Lass.]

Inkle. _O say, simple maid, have you form'd any notion_
_Of all the rude dangers in crossing the ocean?_
_When winds whistle shrilly, ah! won't they remind you,_
_To sigh with regret, for the grot left behind you?_

Yar. _Ah! no, I could follow, and sail the world over,_
_Nor think of my grot, when I look at my lover;_
_The winds, which blow round us, your arms for my pillow,_
_Will lull us to sleep, whilst we're rocked by each billow._

Both. _O say then my true love, we never will sunder,_
_Nor shrink from the tempest, nor dread the big thunder:_
_Whilst constant, we'll laugh at all changes of weather,_
_And journey all over the world both together._

[Exeunt; as retiring further into the cave.

_Manent TRUDGE and WOWSKI._

_Trudge._ Why, you speak English as well as I, my little Wowski.

_Wows._ Iss.

_Trudge._ Iss! and you learnt it from a strange man, that tumbled from a big boat, many moons ago, you say?

_Wows._ Iss--Teach me--teach good many.

_Trudge._ Then, what the devil made them so surprized at seeing us! was he like me? [_Wowski shakes her head._] Not so smart a body, mayhap. Was his face, now, round and comely, and--eh! [_Stroking his chin._] Was it like mine?

_Wows._ Like dead leaf--brown and shrivel.

_Trudge._ Oh, oh, an old shipwrecked sailor, I warrant. With white and grey hair, eh, my pretty beauty spot?

_Wows._ Iss; all white. When night come, he put it in pocket.

_Trudge._ Oh! wore a wig. But the old boy taught you something more than English, I believe.

_Wows._ Iss.

_Trudge._ The devil he did! What was it?

_Wows._ Teach me put dry grass, red hot, in hollow white stick.

_Trudge._ Aye, what was that for?

_Wows._ Put in my mouth--go poff, poff!

_Trudge._ Zounds! did he teach you to smoke?

_Wows._ Iss.

_Trudge._ And what became of him at last? What did your countrymen do for the poor fellow?

_Wows._ Eat him one day--Our chief kill him.

_Trudge._ Mercy on us! what damned stomachs, to swallow a tough old tar! Ah, poor Trudge! your killing comes next.

_Wows._ No, no--not you--no--[_Running to him anxiously._]

_Trudge._ No? why what shall I do, if I get in their paws?

_Wows._ I fight for you!

_Trudge._ Will you? Ecod she's a brave good-natured wench! she'll be worth a hundred of your English wives.--Whenever they fight on their husband's account, it's _with_ him instead of _for_ him, I fancy. But how the plague am I to live here?

_Wows._ I feed you--bring you kid.

SONG.--WOWSKI.

[One day, I heard Mary say.]

_White man, never go away----_
_Tell me why need you?_
_Stay, with your Wowski, stay:_
_Wowski will feed you._
_Cold moons are now coming in;_
_Ah, don't go grieve me!_
_I'll wrap you in leopard's skin:_
_White man, don't leave me._

_And when all the sky is blue,_
_Sun makes warm weather,_
_I'll catch you a cockatoo,_
_Dress you in feather._
_When cold comes, or when 'tis hot,_
_Ah, don't go grieve me!_
_Poor Wowski will be forgot--_
_White man, don't leave me!_

_Trudge._ Zounds! leopard's skin for winter wear, and feathers for a summer's suit! Ha, ha! I shall look like a walking hammer-cloth, at Christmas, and an upright shuttlecock, in the dog days. And for all this, if my master and I find our way to England, you shall be part of our travelling equipage; and, when I get there, I'll give you a couple of snug rooms, on a first floor, and visit you every evening, as soon as I come from the counting-house. Do you like it?

_Wows._ Iss.

_Trudge._ Damme, what a flashy fellow I shall seem in the city! I'll get her a _white_ boy to bring up the tea-kettle. Then I'll teach you to write and dress hair.

_Wows._ You great man in your country?

_Trudge._ Oh yes, a very great man. I'm head clerk of the counting-house, and first valet-de-chambre of the dressing-room. I pounce parchments, powder hair, black shoes, ink paper, shave beards, and mend pens. But hold! I had forgot one material point--you ar'n't married, I hope?

_Wows._ No: you be my chum-chum!

_Trudge._ So I will. It's best, however, to be sure of her being single; for Indian husbands are not quite so complaisant as English ones, and the vulgar dogs might think of looking a little after their spouses. But you have had a lover or two in your time; eh, Wowski?

_Wows._ Oh, iss--great many--I tell you.

DUETT.

Wows. _Wampum, Swampum, Yanko, Lanko, Nanko, Pownatowski,_
_Black men--plenty--twenty--fight for me,_
_White man, woo you true?_

Trudge. _Who?_

Wows. _You._

Trudge. _Yes, pretty little Wowski!_

Wows. _Then I leave all, and follow thee._

Trudge. _Oh then turn about, my little tawny tight one!_
_Don't you like me?_

Wows. _Iss, you're like the snow!_
_If you slight one----_

Trudge. _Never, not for any white one;_
_You are beautiful as any sloe._

Wows. _Wars, jars, scars, can't expose ye,_
_In our grot----_

Trudge. _So snug and cosey!_

Wows. _Flowers, neatly_
_Pick'd, shall sweetly_
_Make your bed._

Trudge. _Coying, toying,_
_With a rosy_
_Posey,_
_When I'm dosey,_
_Bear-skin nightcaps too shall warm my head._

Both. _Bearskin nightcaps, &c. &c._