6
And serve up a friend, a they serve up a toast,
Some gentle faux pas, or some female mistake,
Is like sweetmeat delicious, or relished as cake;
A bit of broad scandle is like a dry crust
It would stick in the throat, so the butter it first
With a little affected good nature, and cry
"No body regrets the thing deeper than I."
Our young ladies nibble a good name in play
As for pastime they nibble a biscut away
While with shrugs and surmises the toothless old dame,
As she mumbles a crust she will mumble a name.
And as the fell sisters astonished the Scot
In predicting of banquo's descendants the lot,
Making shadows of kings, amid flashes o light
To appear in array and to frown in his sight,
So they conjure up spectres all hideous in hue
Which as shades of their neighbours, are pass'd in review.
