Discontent and Quarrelling
JANE.
Miss Lydia every day is drest
Better than I am in my best
White cambric—muslin frock.
I wish I had one made of clear
Worked lawn, or leno very dear.—
And then my heart is broke
Almost to think how cheap my doll
Was bought, when hers cost—yes, cost full
A pound, it did, my brother;
Nor has she had it weeks quite five,
Yet, 'tis as true as I’m alive,
She’s soon to have another.
ROBERT.
O mother, hear my sister Jane,
How foolishly she does complain,
And tease herself for nought.
But 'tis the way of all her sex,
Thus foolishly themselves to vex.
Envy’s a female fault.
JANE.
O brother Robert, say not so;
It is not very long ago,
Ah! brother, you’ve forgot,
When speaking of a boy you knew,
Remember how you said that you
Envied his happy lot.
ROBERT.
Let’s see, what were the words I spoke?
Why, may be I was half in joke—
May be I just might say—
Besides that was not half so bad;
For, Jane, I only said he had
More time than I to play.
JANE.
O may be, may be, very well:
And may be, brother, I don’t tell
Tales to mamma like you.
MOTHER.
O cease your wrangling, cease, my dears;
You would not wake a mother’s fears
Thus, if you better knew.
