In trifling Things just Morals to convey.
'Tis his at once to please and to reform,
And give old Satire a new Pow'r to charm.
And, would you guide your Lives and Actions right,
Think on the Maxims you have heard to Night._
_FINIS._
THE KING AND THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD.
A DRAMATICK TALE.
By _R. DODSLEY_,
AUTHOR of the TOY-SHOP.
_LONDON:_
Printed for the AUTHOR, at _Tully's Head, Pall-Mall_; and Sold by T.
COOPER, at the _Globe_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_. M.DCC.XXXVII.
Dramatis Personae.
_MEN._
The KING, Mr. _Cibber_.
The MILLER, Mr. _Miller_.
RICHARD the _Miller_'s Son, Mr. _Berry_.
Lord LUREWELL, Mr. _Este_.
COURTIERS and
KEEPERS of the Forest.
_WOMEN._
PEGGY, Mrs. _Pritchard_.
MARGERY, Mrs. _Bennet_.
KATE, Mrs. _Cross_.
SCENE, _Sherwood Forest_.
THE KING AND THE MILLER.
SCENE, _Sherwood Forest._
_Enter several_ COURTIERS _as lost._
_1 Courtier._ 'Tis horrid dark! and this Wood I believe has neither End
nor Side.
_4 C._ You mean to get out at, for we have found one in you see.
_2 C._ I wish our good King _Harry_ had kept nearer home to hunt; in my
Mind the pretty, tame Deer in _London_ make much better Sport than the
wild ones in _Sherwood Forest_.
_3 C._ I can't tell which Way his Majesty went, nor whether any-body is
with him or not, but let us keep together pray.
_4 C._ Ay, ay, like true Courtiers, take Care of ourselves whatever
becomes of Master.
_2 C._ Well, it's a terrible Thing to be lost in the Dark.
_4 C._ It is. And yet it's so common a Case, that one would not think
it should be at all so. Why we are all of us lost in the Dark every Day
of our Lives. Knaves keep us in the Dark by their Cunning, and Fools by
their Ignorance. Divines lose us in dark Mysteries; Lawyers in dark
Cases; and Statesmen in dark Intrigues: Nay, the Light of Reason, which
we so much boast of, what is it but a Dark-Lanthorn, which just serves
to prevent us from running our Nose against a Post, perhaps; but is no
more able to lead us out of the dark Mists of Error and Ignorance, in
which we are lost, than an _Ignis fatuus_ would be to conduct us out of
this Wood.
_1 C._ But, my Lord, this is no time for Preaching methinks. And for
all your Morals, Day-light would be much preferable to this Darkness I
believe.
_3 C._ Indeed wou'd it. But come, let us go on, we shall find some
House or other by and by.
_4 C._ Come along. [_Exeunt._
_Enter the_ KING _alone_.
No, no, this can be no publick Road that's certain: I am lost, quite
lost indeed. Of what Advantage is it now to be a King? Night shews me
no Respect: I cannot see better, nor walk so well as another Man. What
is a King? Is he not wiser than another Man? Not without his
Counsellors I plainly find. Is he not more powerful? I oft have been
told so, indeed, but what now can my Power command? Is he not greater
and more magnificent? When seated on his Throne, and surrounded with
Nobles and Flatterers, perhaps he may think so, but when lost in a
Wood, alas! what is he but a common Man? His Wisdom knows not which is
North and which is South; his Power a Beggar's Dog would bark at; and
his Greatness the Beggar would not bow to. And yet how oft are we
puff'd up with these false Attributes? Well, in losing the Monarch, I
have found the Man.
[_The Report of a Gun is heard._
Hark! Some Villain sure is near! What were it best to do? Will my
Majesty protect me? No. Throw Majesty aside then, and let Manhood do
it.
_Enter the_ MILLER.
_Mil._ I believe I hear the Rogue. Who's there?
_King._ No Rogue, I assure you.
_Mil._ Little better, Friend, I believe. Who fir'd that Gun?
_King._ Not I, indeed.
_Mil._ You lie, I believe.
_King._ Lie! lie! How strange it seems to me to be talk'd to in this
Stile. [_Aside._] Upon my Word I don't.
_Mil._ Come, come, Sirrah, confess; you have shot one of the King's
Deer, have not you?
_King._ No indeed, I owe the King more Respect. I heard a Gun go off,
indeed, and was afraid some Robbers might have been near.
_Mil._ I am not bound to believe this, Friend. Pray who are you? What's
your Name?
_King._ Name!
_Mil._ Name! yes Name. Why you have a Name, have not you? Where do you
come from? What is your Business here?
_King._ These are Questions I have not been us'd to, honest Man.
_Mil._ May be so; but they are Questions no honest Man would be afraid
to answer, I think: So if you can give no better Account of your self,
I shall make bold to take you along with me, if you please.
_King._ With you! What Authority have you to----
_Mil._ The King's Authority, if I must give you an Account, Sir. I am
_John Cockle_, the Miller of _Mansfield_, one of his Majesty's Keepers
in this Forest of _Sherwood_; and I will let no suspected Fellow pass
this Way that cannot give a better Account of himself than you have
done, I promise you.
_King._ I must submit to my own Authority. [_Aside._] Very well, Sir, I
am glad to hear the King has so good an Officer: And since I find you
have his Authority, I will give you a better Account of myself, if you
will do me the Favour to hear it.
_Mil._ It's more than you deserve, I believe; but let's hear what you
can say for yourself.
_King._ I have the Honour to belong to the King as well as you, and,
perhaps, should be as unwilling to see any Wrong done him. I came down
with him to hunt in this Forest, and the Chace leading us to Day a
great Way from Home, I am benighted in this Wood, and have lost my Way.
_Mil._ This does not sound well; if you have been a hunting, pray where
is your Horse?
_King._ I have tired my Horse so that he lay down under me, and I was
oblig'd to leave him.
_Mil._ If I thought I might believe this now.
_King._ I am not used to lie, honest Man.
_Mil._ What! do you live at Court, and not lie! that's a likely Story
indeed.
_King._ Be that as it will. I speak Truth now I assure you; and, to
convince you of it, if you will attend me to _Nottingham_, if I am near
it; or give me a Night's Lodging in your own House, here is something
to pay you for your Trouble, and if that is not sufficient, I will
satisfy you in the Morning to your utmost Desire.
_Mil._ Ay, now I am convinc'd you are a Courtier; here is a little
Bribe for to Day, and a large Promise for To-morrow, both in a Breath:
Here, take it again, and take this along with it----_John Cockle_ is no
Courtier, he can do what he ought----without a Bribe.
_King._ Thou art a very extraordinary Man I must own; and I should be
glad, methinks, to be further acquainted with thee.
_Mil._ Thee! and Thou! Prythee don't thee and thou me; I believe I am
as good a Man as yourself at least.
_King._ Sir, I beg your Pardon.
_Mil._ Nay, I am not angry, Friend, only I don't love to be too
familiar with any-body, before I know whether they deserve it or not.
_King._ You are in the Right. But what am I to do?
_Mil._ You may do what you please. You are twelve Miles from
_Nottingham_, and all the Way through this thick Wood; but if you are
resolv'd upon going thither to Night, I will put you in the Road, and
direct you the best I can; or if you will accept of such poor
Entertainment as a Miller can give, you shall be welcome to stay all
Night, and in the Morning I will go with you myself.
_King._ And cannot you go with me to Night?
_Mil._ I would not go with you to Night if you was the King.
_King._ Then I must go with you, I think. [_Exeunt._
_Scene changes to the Town of_ Mansfield.
DICK _alone_.
Well, dear _Mansfield_, I am glad to see thy Face again. But my Heart
aches, methinks, for fear this should be only a Trick of theirs to get
me into their Power. Yet the Letter seems to be wrote with an Air of
Sincerity, I confess; and the Girl was never us'd to lie till she kept
a Lord Company. Let me see, I'll read it once more.
_Dear_ Richard,
_I am at last (tho' much too late for me) convinc'd of the Injury
done to us both by that base Man, who made me think you false; he
contriv'd these Letters, which I send you, to make me think you
just upon the Point of being married to another, a Thought I could
not bear with Patience, so aiming at Revenge on you, consented to
my own Undoing. But for your own sake I beg you to return hither,
for I have some Hopes of being able to do you Justice, which is the
only Comfort of your most distrest but ever affectionate,_
PEGGY.
There can be no Cheat in this sure! The Letters she has sent are, I
think, a Proof of her Sincerity. Well, I will go to her however: I
cannot think she will again betray me: If she has as much Tenderness
left for me, as, in spite of her Ill-usage, I still feel for her, I'm
sure she won't. Let me see, I am not far from the House, I believe.
[_Exit._
_Scene changes to a Room._
PEGGY _and_ PHOEBE.
_Phoe._ Pray, Madam, make yourself easy.
_Peg._ Ah! _Phoebe_, she that has lost her Virtue, has with it lost her
Ease, and all her Happiness. Believing, cheated Fool! to think him
false.
_Phoe._ Be patient, Madam, I hope you will shortly be reveng'd on that
deceitful Lord.
_Peg._ I hope I shall, for that were just Revenge. But will Revenge
make me happy? Will it excuse my Falshood? Will it restore me to the
Heart of my much-injur'd Love? Ah! no. That blooming Innocence he us'd
to praise, and call the greatest Beauty of our Sex, is gone. I have no
Charm left that might renew that Flame I took such Pains to quench.
[_Knocking at the Door._
See who's there. O Heavens 'tis he! Alas! that ever I should be asham'd
to see the Man I love!
_Enter_ RICHARD, _who stands looking on her at a Distance,
she weeping_.
_Dick._ Well, _Peggy_ (but I suppose you're Madam now in that fine
Dress) you see you have brought me back; is it to triumph in your
Falshood? or am I to receive the slighted Leavings of your fine Lord?
_Peg._ O _Richard_! after the Injury I have done you, I cannot look on
you without Confusion: But do not think so hardly of me; I stay'd not
to be slighted by him, for the Moment I discover'd his vile Plot on
you, I fled his Sight, nor could he e'er prevail to see me since.
_Dick._ Ah, _Peggy_! you were too hasty in believing, and much I fear,
the Vengeance aim'd at me, had other Charms to recommend it to you:
Such Bravery as that [_Pointing to her Cloaths_] I had not to bestow;
but if a tender, honest Heart could please, you had it all; and if I
wish'd for more, 'twas for your sake.
_Peg._ O _Richard_! when you consider the wicked Stratagem he contriv'd
to make me think you base and deceitful, I hope you will, at least,
pity my Folly, and, in some Measure, excuse my Falshood; that you will
forgive me, I dare not hope.
_Dick._ To be forc'd to fly from my Friends and Country, for a Crime
that I was innocent of, is an Injury that I cannot easily forgive to be
sure: But if you are less guilty of it than I thought, I shall be very
glad; and if your Design be really as you say, to clear me, and to
expose the Baseness of him that betray'd and ruin'd you, I will join
with you with all my Heart. But how do you propose to do this?
_Peg._ The King is now in this Forest a hunting, and our young Lord is
every Day with him: Now, I think, if we could take some Opportunity of
throwing ourselves at his Majesty's Feet, and complaining of the
Injustice of one of his Courtiers, it might, perhaps, have some Effect
upon him.
_Dick._ If we were suffer'd to make him sensible of it, perhaps it
might; but the Complaints of such little Folks as we seldom reach the
Ears of Majesty.
_Peg._ We can but try.
_Dick._ Well, If you will go with me to my Father's, and stay there
till such an Opportunity happens, I shall believe you in earnest, and
will join with you in your Design.
_Peg._ I will do any thing to convince you of my Sincerity, and to make
Satisfaction for the Injuries which have been done you.
_Dick._ Will you go now?
_Peg._ I will be with you in less than an Hour. [_Exeunt._
_Scene changes to the Mill._
MARGERY _and_ KATE _Knitting_.
_Kate._ O dear, I would not see a Spirit for all the World; but I love
dearly to hear Stories of them. Well, and what then?
_Mar._ And so, at last, in a dismal, hollow Tone it cry'd----
[_A Knocking at the Door frights them both; they scream out,
and throw down their Knitting._
_Mar._ and } Lord bless us! What's that?
_Kate._ }
_Kate._ O dear, Mother, it's some Judgment upon us I'm afraid. They
say, talk of the Devil and he'll appear.
_Mar._ _Kate_, go and see who's at the Door.
_Kate._ I durst not go, Mother; do you go.
_Mar._ Come, let's both go.
_Kate._ Now don't speak as if you was afraid.
_Mar._ No, I won't, if I can help it. Who's there?
_Dick without._ What, won't you let me in?
_Kate._ O Gemini! it's like our _Dick_, I think: He's certainly dead,
and it's his Spirit.
_Mar._ Heaven forbid! I think in my Heart it's he himself. Open the
Door, _Kate_.
_Kate._ Nay, do you.
_Mar._ Come, we'll both open it.
[_They open the Door._
_Enter_ DICK.
_Dick._ Dear Mother, how do ye do? I thought you would not have let me
in.
_Mar._ Dear Child, I'm over-joy'd to see thee; but I was so frighted, I
did not know what to do.
_Kate._ Dear Brother, I am glad to see you; how have you done this long
while?
_Dick._ Very well, _Kate_. But where's my Father?
_Mar._ He heard a Gun go off just now, and he's gone to see who 'tis.
_Dick._ What, they love Venison at _Mansfield_ as well as ever, I
suppose?
_Kate._ Ay, and they will have it too.
_Miller without._ Hoa! _Madge! Kate!_ bring a Light here.
_Mar._ Yonder he is.
_Kate._ Has he catch'd the Rogue, I wonder?
_Enter the_ KING _and the_ MILLER.
_Mar._ Who have you got?
_Mil._ I have brought thee a Stranger, _Madge_; thou must give him a
Supper, and a Lodging if thou can'st.
_Mar._ You have got a better Stranger of your own, I can tell you:
_Dick_'s come.
_Mil._ _Dick!_ Where is he? Why _Dick!_ How is't my Lad?
_Dick._ Very well, I thank you, Father.
_King._ A little more and you had push'd me down.
_Mil._ Faith, Sir, you must excuse me; I was over-joy'd to see my Boy.
He has been at _London_, and I have not seen him these four Yerrs.
_King._ Well, I shall once in my Life have the Happiness of being
treated as a common Man; and of seeing human Nature without Disguise.
[_Aside._]
_Mil._ What has brought thee Home so unexpected?
_Dick._ You will know that presently.
_Mil._ Of that by-and-by then. We have got the King down in the Forest
a hunting this Season, and this honest Gentleman, who came down with
his Majesty from _London_, has been with 'em to Day it seems, and has
lost his Way. Come, _Madge_, see what thou can'st get for Supper. Kill
a Couple of the best Fowls; and go you, _Kate_, and draw a Pitcher of
Ale. We are famous, Sir, at _Mansfield_, for good Ale, and for honest
Fellows that know how to drink it.
_King._ Good Ale will be acceptable at present, for I am very dry. But
pray, how came your Son to leave you, and go to _London_?
_Mil._ Why, that's a Story which _Dick_, perhaps, won't like to have
told.
_King._ Then I don't desire to hear it.
_Enter_ KATE _with an Earthen Pitcher of Ale, and
a Horn_.
_Mil._ So, now do you go help your Mother. Sir, my hearty Service to
you.
_King._ Thank ye, Sir. This plain Sincerity and Freedom, is a Happiness
unknown to Kings. [_Aside._]
_Mil._ Come, Sir.
_King._ _Richard_, my Service to you.
_Dick._ Thank you, Sir.
_Mil._ Well, _Dick_, and how do'st thou like _London_? Come, tell us
what thou hast seen.
_Dick._ Seen! I have seen the Land of Promise.
_Mil._ The Land of Promise! What dost thou mean?
_Dick._ The Court, Father.
_Mil._ Thou wilt never leave joking.
_Dick._ To be serious then, I have seen the Disappointment of all my
Hopes and Expectations; and that's more than one would wish to see.
_Mil._ What, would the great Man thou wast recommended to, do nothing
at all for thee at last?
_Dick._ Why, yes; he would promise me to the last.
_Mil._ Zoons! do the Courtiers think their Dependants can eat Promises!
_Dick._ No, no, they never trouble their Heads to think, whether we eat
at all or not. I have now dangled after his Lordship several Years,
tantaliz'd with Hopes and Expectations; this Year promised one Place,
the next another, and the third, in sure and certain Hope of----a
Disappointment. One falls, and it was promis'd before; another, and I
am just Half an Hour too late; a third, and it stops the Mouth of a
Creditor; a fourth, and it pays the Hire of a Flatterer; a fifth, and
it bribes a Vote; and the sixth, I am promis'd still. But having thus
slept away some Years, I awoke from my Dream: My Lord, I found, was so
far from having it in his Power to get a Place for me, that he had been
all this while seeking after one for himself.
_Mil._ Poor _Dick_! And is plain Honesty then a Recommendation to no
Place at Court?
_Dick._ It may recommend you to be a Footman, perhaps, but nothing
further, nothing further, indeed. If you look higher, you must furnish
yourself with other Qualifications: You must learn to say Ay, or No; to
run, or stand; to fetch, or carry, or leap over a Stick at the Word of
Command. You must be Master of the Arts of Flattery, Insinuation,
Dissimulation, Application, and [_Pointing to his Palm_] right
Application too, if you hope to succeed.
_King._ You don't consider I am a Courtier, methinks.
_Dick._ Not I, indeed; 'tis no Concern of mine what you are. If, in
general, my Character of the Court is true, 'tis not my Fault if it's
disagreable to your Worship. There are particular Exceptions I own, and
I hope you may be one.
_King._ Nay, I don't want to be flatter'd, so let that pass. Here's
better Success to you the next Time you come to _London_.
_Dick._ I thank ye; but I don't design to see it again in haste.
_Mil._ No, no, _Dick_; instead of depending upon Lords Promises, depend
upon the Labour of thine own Hands; expect nothing but what thou can'st
earn, and then thou wilt not be disappointed. But come, I want a
Description of _London_; thou hast told us nothing thou hast seen yet.
_Dick._ O! 'tis a fine Place! I have seen large Houses with small
Hospitality; great Men do little Actions; and fine Ladies do----nothing
at all. I have seen the honest Lawyers of _Westminster-Hall_, and the
virtuous Inhabitants of _'Change-Alley_. The politick Mad-men of
Coffee-Houses, and the wise Statesmen of _Bedlam_. I have seen merry
Tragedies, and sad Comedies; Devotion at an Opera, and Mirth at a
Sermon; I have seen fine Cloaths at _St. James_'s, and long Bills at
_Ludgate-Hill_. I have seen poor Grandeur, and rich Poverty; high
Honours, and low Flattery, great Pride, and no Merit. In short, I have
seen a Fool with a Title, a Knave with a Pension, and an honest Man
with a Thread-bare Coat. Pray how do you like _London_?
_Mil._ And is this the best Description thou can'st give of it?
_Dick._ Yes.
_King._ Why, _Richard_, you are a Satirist, I find.
_Dick._ I love to speak Truth, Sir; if that happens to be Satire, I
can't help it.
_Mil._ Well, if this is _London_, give me my Country Cottage; which,
tho' it is not a great House, nor a fine House, is my own House, and I
can shew a Receipt for the Building on't.
_King._ I wish all the great Builders in the Kingdom could say as much.
_Mil._ Come, Sir, our Supper, I believe, is ready for us, by this time;
and to such as I have, you're as welcome as a Prince.
_King._ I thank you. [_Exeunt._
_Scene changes to the Wood._
_Enter several_ KEEPERS.
_1 K._ The Report of the Gun was somewhere this Way I'm sure.
_2 K._ Yes, but I can never believe that any-body would come a Deer
stealing so dark a Night as this.
_3 K._ Where did the Deer harbour to Day?
_4 K._ There was a Herd lay upon _Hamilton-Hill_, another just by
_Robin Hood's Chair_, and a third here in _Mansfield Wood_.
_1 K._ Ay, those they have been amongst.
_2 K._ But we shall never be able to find 'em to Night, 'tis so dark.
_3 K._ No, no; let's go back again.
_1 K._ Zoons! you're afraid of a broken Head, I suppose, if we should
find 'em; and so had rather slink back again. Hark! Stand close. I hear
'em coming this Way.
_Enter the_ COURTIERS.
_1 C._ Did not you hear some-body just now? Faith I begin to be afraid
we shall meet with some Misfortune to Night.
_2 C._ Why, if any-body should take what we have got, we have made a
fine Business of it.
_3 C._ Let 'em take it if they will; I am so tir'd I shall make but
small Resistance.
_The Keepers rush upon them._
_2 K._ Ay, Rogues, Rascals, and Villains, you have got it, have you?
_2 C._ Indeed we have got but very little, but what we have you're
welcome to, if you will but use us civilly.
_1 K._ O, yes! very civilly; you deserve to be us'd civilly, to be
sure.
_4 C._ Why, what have we done that we may not be civilly us'd?
_1 K._ Come, come, don't trifle, surrender.
_1 C._ I have but three Half-Crowns about me.
_2 C._ Here is Three and Six-pence for you, Gentlemen.
_3 C._ Here's my Watch; I have no Money at all.
_4 C._ Indeed I have nothing in my Pocket but a Snuff-box.
_4 K._ What, the Dogs want to bribe us, do they? No, Rascals; you shall
go before the Justice To-morrow, depend on't.
_4 C._ Before the Justice! What, for being robb'd?
_1 K._ For being robb'd! What do you mean? Who has robb'd you?
_4 C._ Why, did not you just now demand our Money, Gentlemen?
_2 K._ O, the Rascals! They will swear a Robbery against us, I warrant.
_4 C._ A Robbery! Ay, to be sure.
_1 K._ No, no; We did not demand your Money, we demanded the Deer you
have kill'd.
_4 C._ The Devil take the Deer, I say; he led us a Chace of six Hours,
and got away from us at last.
_1 K._ Zoons! ye Dogs, do ye think to banter us? I tell ye you have
this Night shot one of the King's Deer; did not we hear the Gun go off?
Did not we hear you say, you was afraid it should be taken from you?
_2 C._ We were afraid our Money should be taken from us.
_1 K._ Come, come, no more shuffling: I tell ye, you're all Rogues, and
we'll have you hanged, you may depend on't. Come, let's take 'em to old
_Cockle_'s, we're not far off, we'll keep 'em there all Night, and
To-morrow-morning we'll away with 'em before the Justice.
_4 C._ A very pretty Adventure. [_Exeunt._
_Scene changes to the Mill._
KING, MILLER, MARGERY, _and_ DICK, _at Supper_.
_Mil._ Come, Sir, you must mend a bad Supper with a Glass of good Ale:
Here's King _Harry_'s Health.
_King._ With all my Heart. Come, _Richard_, here's King _Harry_'s
Health; I hope you are Courtier enough to pledge me, are not you?
_Dick._ Yes, yes, Sir, I'll drink the King's Health with all my Heart.
_Mar._ Come, Sir, my humble Service to you, and much good may do ye
with your poor Supper; I wish it had been better.
_King._ You need make no Apologies.
_Marg._ We are oblig'd to your Goodness in excusing our Rudeness.
_Mil._ Prithee, _Margery_, don't trouble the Gentleman with
Compliments.
_Mar._ Lord, Husband, if one had no more Manners than you, the
Gentleman would take us all for Hogs.
_Dick._ Now I think the more Compliments the less Manners.
_King._ I think so too. Compliments in Discourse, I believe, are like
Ceremonies in Religion; the one has destroy'd all true Piety, and the
other all Sincerity and Plain-dealing.
_Mil._ Then a Fig for all Ceremony and Compliments too: Give us thy
Hand; and let us drink and be merry.
_King._ Right, honest Miller, let us drink and be merry. Come, have you
got e'er a good Song?
_Mil._ Ah! my singing Days are over, but my Man _Joe_ has got an
excellent one; and if you have a Mind to hear it, I'll call him in.
_King._ With all my Heart.
_Mil._ _Joe!_
_Enter_ JOE.
_Mil._ Come, _Joe_, drink Boy; I have promised this Gentleman that you
shall sing him your last new Song.
_Joe._ Well, Master, if you have promis'd it him, he shall have it.
SONG.
I.
_How happy a State does the Miller possess?
Who wou'd be no greater, nor fears to be less;
On his Mill and himself he depends for Support,
Which is better than servilely cringing at Court._
II.
_What tho' he all dusty and whiten'd does go,
The more he's be-powder'd, the more like a Beau;
A Clown in this Dress may be honester far
Than a Courtier who struts in his Garter and Star._
III.
_Tho' his Hands are so dawb'd they're not fit to be seen,
The Hands of his Betters are not very clean;
A Palm more polite may as dirtily deal;
Gold, in handling, will stick to the Fingers like Meal._
IV.
_What if, when a Pudding for Dinner he lacks,
He cribs, without Scruple, from other Men's Sacks;
In this of right noble Examples he brags,
Who borrow as freely from other Men's Bags._
V.
_Or should he endeavour to heap an Estate,
In this he wou'd mimick the Tools of the State;
Whose Aim is alone their Coffers to fill,
As all his Concern's to bring Grist to his Mill._
VI.
_He eats when he's hungry, he drinks when he's dry,
And down when he's weary contented does lie;
Then rises up chearful to work and to sing:
If so happy a Miller, then who'd be a King._
_Mil._ There's a Song for you.
_King._ He should go sing this at Court, I think.
_Dick._ I believe, if he's wise, he'll chuse to stay at home tho'.