The nations fight out their ill humours.
We sit i’ the window, sip our glass at ease,
And see how down the stream the gay ships gently glide;
Then wend us safely home at even-tide,
Blessing our stars we live in times of peace.
Third Burgher.
Yea, neighbour, there you speak right wisely;
Ev’n so do I opine precisely.
They may split their skulls, they may,
And turn the world upside down,