Dor. There’s a main point gained: my lord is not married, I find.
[Aside.
Mrs. Sul. But I wonder, friend, that in so many good services, you had not a better provision made for you.
Arch. I don’t know how, madam. I had a lieutenancy offered me three or four times; but that is not bread, madam—I live much better as I do.
Scrub. Madam, he sings rarely! I was thought to do pretty well here in the country till he came; but alack a day, I’m nothing to my brother Martin!
Dor. Does he?—Pray, sir, will you oblige us with a song?
Arch. Are you for passion or humour?
Scrub. Oh le! he has the purest ballad about a trifle—
Mrs. Sul. A trifle! pray, sir, let’s have it.
Arch. I’m ashamed to offer you a trifle, madam; but since you command me—
[Sings to the tune of “Sir Simon the King.”
Begun with a trifle and ended:
All trifling people draw near,
And I shall be nobly attended.
That lately have come into play;
The men would want something to do,
And the women want something to say.
Because the ladies (they know)
Admire, by often possessing,
That eminent trifle, a beau.
The trifle of trifles to gain:
No sooner the virgin is rifled,
But a trifle shall part ’em again.
At White’s half an hour to sit?
Or who could bear a tea-table,
Without talking of trifles for wit?
Gold keys are no trifles, we see:
White rods are no trifles, I’m sure,
Whatever their bearers may be.
Where trifles abundantly breed,
The levee will show you His Grace
Makes promises trifles indeed.
I count neither trifle nor sin:
But, ye gods! how oft do we find
A scandalous trifle within.
A trifle, or something as bad:
But if you’ll contrive how to drink it,
You’ll find it no trifle, egad!
A widow’s a trifle in sorrow:
A peace is a trifle to-day,
Who knows what may happen to-morrow?
Or to hide it, the red may endeavour:
But if once the army is broke,
We
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