This, the most humorous example of _vers de société_ in the English language, well illustrates the position of a parson in a family of distinction at that period.--_W. E. B._ To their Excellencies the Lords Justices of Ireland,[1] The humble petition of Frances Harris, Who must starve and die a maid if it miscarries; Humbly sheweth, that I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's[2] chamber, because I was cold; And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, (besides farthings) in money and gold; So because I had been buying things for my lady last night, I was resolved to tell my money, to see if it was right. Now, you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock, Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small stock, I keep in my pocket, ty'd about my middle, 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.