Joe sold his sand, and cly'd his cole, sir [marginal note: pocketed his money] / While Bess got a basket of rags, / Then up to St. Giles's they roll'd, sir, / To every bunter Bess brags: / Into a booze-ken they pike it, [marginal note: go] / Where Bess was admitted we hear; / For none of the coves dare but like it, / As Joey, here kiddy, was there.

Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his brother there, With many moe confederates are in arms.

Take off thine eye! more intolerable than fiends' glarings is a doltish stare!

I squeezed the meeting in.