“Zounds! Sirs!” exclaims Mr. Chalmers, “what a life ’t must be, tho’; sleep o’ days, wake o’ nights, prowling under the branches, harkening for game from dusk till dawn, all seasons the same, one’s heart in one’s mouth, till the hoof’s heard, and then a masking dash, a brawl, a thrift quick as the lightning’s flash; a corpse or two, and your purse the heavier by as many guineas as the game’s had under cover—and all to the tune of the owl’s cry, and I doubt not for some sweet Maid Marian’s sake!” “’Slife! hear the boy!” cries Mr. Brummell. “One would think him sired by a Jack Sheppard rather than by the gentlest Sir that ever lived. For your froward tendencies, Sir, you shall pay a penalty.” “Yea, yea! a penalty! a penalty!” cry they all. “In what kind?” returns Jack, waving his hat over his head. “A song! a song!” they answer. “Which one?” asks he, nothing loath, for his lungs are lusty and his reputation for singing above the ordinary. “What you will,” they answer. “Well, then, what say you to ‘Lady Betty Takes the Air,’ since all can join me in the chorus?” “Good!” “Percy,” says Jack, “you’ve a pretty pipe in your throat; give me the key, will you? not too high, you rascal, I’m not vainglorious at my music. So, and, so—there,” as Percy does as he is asked. When all the May is deck’d about With hawthorn bud and blow; When pinkly shows the heather’s tip, And harebells nod a-row— Lady Betty takes the air, Sing ah fa, la-la-la! With a rush hat on her hair: Sing ah fa, la-la-la! When all the brown earth thrills to green, When rivers laugh and sing; When lark and thrush cajole and coax, And all the wood’s a-wing— Lady Betty takes the air, etc. When Corydon most sad, forlorn, With wrinkled hose, distraught, All flouted by his worshiped Fair, Walks forth as one that’s daft, Lady Betty takes the air, etc. When, at the turn-stile next the park, The sad swain stops to sigh— “No lady ever lived so dear As she for whom I’d die!” Lady Betty takes the air, etc. When, as the sun walks up the glade, And as the milkmaid hies Across the paddock with her pails, And as the lark doth rise— Lady Betty takes the air, etc. Cries Betty, flaunting past, “Oh fie! A gallant all unkempt, Such ungenteel and woful sight Kind fortune me exempt!” Lady Betty takes the air, etc.