And thus in plaintive tones declar'd his grief:
AIR.
Ah, sacre Dieu! vat do I see yonder,
Dat look so tempting red and vite?
Begar, it is the roast beef from Londre!
O grant to me one letel bite.
But to my guts if you give no heeding,
And cruel fate this boon denies,
In kind compassion to my pleading,
Return, and let me feast mine eyes.