Catchum.

Well, we have this, at least, to comfort us;

Their good Opinion is no Commendation,

Nor their foul Slanders any Stain to Honour.

I think we've done whatever Men could do

To reconcile their savage Minds to Peace.

If they're displeas'd, our Honour is acquitted,

And we have not been wanting in our Duty

To them, our King, our Country, and our Friends.

Gripe.

Gripe.

But what Returns are these they've left behind?

These Belts are valuable, and neatly wrought.

Catchum.

Catchum.

This Pack of Furs is very weighty too;

The Skins are pick'd, and of the choicest Kind.

Sharp.

Sharp.

By Jove, they're worth more Money than their Presents.

 Prev. P 52/204 next