next my smock. So when I went to put up my purse, as God would have it, my smock was unript, And instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipt; Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed; And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe as my maidenhead. So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light; But when I search'd, and miss'd my purse, Lord! I thought I should have sunk outright.      "Lord! madam," says Mary, "how d'ye do?"—"Indeed," says I, "never worse:      But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with my purse?"      "Lord help me!" says Mary, "I never stirr'd out of this place!"      "Nay," said I, "I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain case."      So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm:      However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm. So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very well think, But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink. So I was a-dream'd, methought, that I went and search'd the folks round, And in a corner of Mrs. Duke's[3] box, ty'd in a rag, the money was found. So next morning we told Whittle,[4] and he fell a swearing:      Then my dame Wadgar[5] came, and she, you know, is thick of hearing.      "Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you know what a loss I have        had?"      "Nay," says she, "my Lord Colway's[6] folks are all very sad:      For my Lord Dromedary[7] comes a Tuesday without fail."      "Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that I ail."      Says Cary,[8] says he, "I have been a servant this five and twenty years come spring, And in all the places I lived I never heard of such a thing."      "Yes," says the steward,[9] "I remember when I was at my Lord Shrewsbury's, Such a thing as this happen'd, just about the time of gooseberries."      So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief:      (Now, you must know, of all things in the world I hate a thief:)      However, I was resolved to bring the discourse slily about:      "Mrs. Duke," said I, "here's an ugly accident has happened out:      'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a louse:[10]      But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house.      'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence makes a great hole in my wages:      Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages. Now, Mrs. Duke, you know, and everybody understands, That though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands."      "The devil take me!" said she, (blessing herself,) "if ever I saw't!"      So she roar'd like a bedlam, as thof I had call'd her all to naught. So, you know, what could I 

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