CHORUS.

Our balances, our balances,

Our balances, our balances.

SIR ROGER REDNOSE (Banker).

Be quiet, lads, and steady,
Suspend this idle racket,
Your balances are ready,

Each wrapped in separate packet,
All ticketed and docketed,

And ready to be pocketed.

FIRST CITIZEN.

As of cash you've such a heap, sir,
My balance you may keep, sir;
Have troubled you I shouldn't,
Except in the belief

That you couldn't pay or wouldn't. [Exit.

SIR ROGER REDNOSE.

Now there's a pretty thief.

(A scroll appears over a door.)
"Tick, Nick, Tick, Trick, and Company,
Are deeply grieved to say,

They are under the necessity
Of suspending for the day."

SECOND CITIZEN.

This evil I portended.

NERVOUS COCKNEY.

This hubbub makes me feel so.

FANCY COCKNEY.

Now this I call a floorer.

NEWSPAPER MAN.

The respectable old firm,

(We have much concern in saying), Kite, Grubbings, and Muckworm, Have been forced to leave off paying.

CHORUS (Da Capo).

Our balances, our balances,
Our balances, our balances.

SIR ROGER REDNOSE,

Some are gone to-day

More will go to-morrow:

But I will stay and pay,

And neither beg nor borrow,

Tick and Kite,

That looked so bright,

Like champagne froth have flown, sirs;

But I can tell

They both worked well

While well was let alone, sirs.

THE THREE LITTLE MEN.

"Base is the slave that pays."-PISTOL.

THERE were Three Little Men,

And they made a Little Pen,

And they said, "Little Pen, you must flow, flow, flow, And write our names away

Under promises to pay,

Which how we are to keep we do not know."

Then said the Little Pen :

"My pretty Little Men,

If you wish your pretty promises to pass, pass, pass,
You must make a little flash,

And parade a little cash,

And you're sure of every neighbour that's an ass, ass, ass."

Then said the Little Three,

"If wiseacres there be,

They are not the sort of folks for me, me, me.

Let us have but all the fools

And the wise ones and their rules,

May just go to the devil and be d—, d—, d—.”

Then the Little Men so gay,
Wrote their promises to pay,

And lived for many moons royally, ly, ly,

Till there came a stormy day,

And they vanished all away,

Leaving many shoals of gudgeons high and dry, dry, dry.

They who sought the Little Men,

Only found the Little Pen,

Which they instantly proceeded to condemn, demn, demn; "But," said the Little Pen,

"Use me like the Little Men,

And I'll make you as good money as I made for them."

The seekers with long faces,

Returned upon their traces,

They carried in the van the Little Pen, Pen, Pen;

And they hung it on the wall

Of their reverend Town-hall,

As an eloquent memorial of the Little Men.

PROCEMIUM OF AN EPIC

WHICH WILL SHORTLY APPEAR IN QUARTO, UNDER THE TITLE OF "FLY-BY-NIGHT."

By R-S-, Esq.,* Poet Laureate.

"His promises were, as he once was, mighty;

And his performance, as he is now, nothing."-HEN. VIII.

How troublesome is day!

It calls us from our sleep away;

It bids us from our pleasant dreams awake,
And sends us forth to keep or break

Our promises to pay.

How troublesome is day!

Now listen to my lay;

Much have I said,

Which few have heard or read,

And much have I to say,

Which hear ye while ye may.

Come listen to my lay,

Come, for ye know me, as a man
Who always praises, as he can,

All promisers to pay.

So they and I on terms agree,

And they but keep their faith with me,
Whate'er their deeds to others be,

They may to the minutest particle

Command my fingers for an ode or article.

Come listen while I strike the Epic string,
And, as a changeful song I sing,

* Robert Southey.