She draws an Ace, and sees it red. In ready Counters never pays, But pawns her Snuff-Box, Rings, and Keys. Ever with some new Fancy struck, Tries twenty Charms to mend her Luck. This Morning when the Parson came, I said I could not win a Game. This odious Chair, how came I stuck in’t? I think I’ve never had good Luck in’t. I’m so uneasy in my Stays: Your Fan, a Moment, if you please. Stand further, Girl, or get you gone, I always lose when you look on. Lord! Madam, you have lost Codill; I never saw you play so ill. Nay, Madam, give me leave to say ’Twas you that threw the game away; When Lady Tricksy play’d a Four, You took it with a Matadore; I saw you touch your Wedding-Ring Before my Lady call’d a King. You spoke a Word began with H, And I know whom you mean to teach, Because you held the King of Hearts; Fie, Madam, leave these little Arts. That’s not so bad as one that rubs Her Chair to call the King of Clubs, And makes her Partner understand A Matadore is in her Hand. Madam, you have no Cause to flounce, I swear I saw you twice renounce. And truly, Madam, I know when Instead of Five you scor’d me Ten. Spadillo here has got a Mark, A Child may know it in the Dark: I Guess the Hand, it seldom fails, I wish some Folks would pare their Nails. While thus they rail, and scold, and storm, It passes but for common Form; Are conscious that they all speak true, And give each other but their due; It never interrupts the Game, Or makes ’em sensible of Shame. Time too precious now to waste, The Supper gobbled up in haste: Again a-fresh to Cards they run, As if they had but just begun; Yet shall I not again repeat How oft they Squabble, Snarl, and Cheat: At last they hear the Watchman Knock, _A frosty Morn ... Past Four a-clock_. The Chair-men are not to be found, Come, let us play the t’other Round. Now all in haste they huddle on Their Hoods, their Cloaks, and get them gone; But first, the Winner must invite The Company to-morrow Night. Unlucky Madam left in Tears, Who now again Quadrill forswears, With empty Purse and aching Head, Steals to her sleeping Spouse to Bed. GEORGE BARRINGTON. There is much and curious food for reflection, in the tendency that mankind has ever shown to sympathise with the daring and ingenious depredators who relieve the rich of their superfluity, which may possibly be owing to the romantic adventures and hair-breadth escapes which the robbers, in their career, have undergone. But, be the cause what it may, it is certain that the populace of all nations view with admiration great and successful thieves: for instance, what greater popular hero, and one that has been popular for centuries, could be found than Robin Hood?